


A Pinch of Spice

by a_pinch_of_spice



Category: Ookami to Koushinryou | Spice and Wolf
Genre: Banter, Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 20:51:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 45,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_pinch_of_spice/pseuds/a_pinch_of_spice
Summary: A collection of 26 vignettes, written to be read alongside the Spice and Wolf anime adaptation.





	1. Foreword

This collection of vignettes was originally written as part of the 2016 Spice and Wolf rewatch thread on Reddit's /r/anime subreddit. They were written with the intention of being read after watching each episode of the anime, although they can be read independently.

For the most part, each vignette was written with little to no planning in somewhere between one and three hours the night before the next episode thread went up. As such, the quality of the stories is... _variable._

Although it was tempting to edit or even wholesale replace certain vignettes ( _Merchant and Despair_ in particular), that felt a little disingenuous. As a result, modifications to the vignettes have been limited to basic editing fixes, along with restoring some to their "un-cut" form now that character limits no longer apply.

In addition, two extra stories have been added. _Wolf and Rhythm_ is derived from an idea that never made it into the collection itself. _Wolf and Dragons_ was written quite some time ago, but I felt it made a reasonable capstone for the collection.

As a word of warning: _Wolf and Dragons_ is set between volumes 14 and 15 of the light novel. It contains no explicit spoilers, but those actively reading the light novels may wish to skip it.

As a final note: due to technical problems with AO3, some text had to be changed from the original Reddit version.


	2. S1E01: Wolf and Words

The sun wheeled overhead, beginning its descent back to the horizon.

"Ah!"

The girl sat upright, looking intently at... _something_. "What?"

"That tree!" she exclaimed, pointing. Lawrence squinted and could just make out a lone willow standing beside a river that ran by the road ahead. It appeared to be the subject of her interest.

"What about it?" he asked cautiously, not sure if it carried some special significance.

"There are no trees like it anywhere near the village," she replied, smiling. Lawrence noticed the bottom of her... _his_... coat swishing back and forth.

"Are you sure? They're not that uncomm—"

"I knew each and every tree in and around the village," she replied with some definitiveness. "Many, from seedlings."

"Ah." Excited by a tree. Well, it made _some_ sense. "I suppose a new kind of tree _would_ be exciting if you've been cooped up in that village forever."

Holo sighed. "Indeed, for centuries have I been there, knowing aught but the fields and homes and forests of Pasloe." She held her hands to her chest. "But now, at last, I am free to take in the wider world around me; so many sights and sounds and smells!"

Lawrence smiled. She wasn't the first wide-eyed passenger he'd carried beyond the limits of their understa—

Holo turned a sour look in his direction. "Didst you forget what I said? I am from far to the north, and am no stranger to travel. I have likely seen more of the land than you ever shall. A clueless maiden, _indeed._ " She rolled her eyes. "What a fool you are."

He blinked at the sudden change in personality. "Well, I... uh..."

"It has simply been an age since last I saw one. May I not be gladdened to see old sights anew, to bask in the long-since forgotten memories they bring to mind?"

"Well, of _course_ you—"

"Good." She smiled and plopped herself back down on the bench, looking out into the distance. "Perhaps, when we reach the north, I shall witness _your_ discovery of new lands, though I shall know them already." She grinned a somewhat unpleasant smile, showing her teeth.

Lawrence silently bristled. He'd been happy with the feeling of being the rescuer, the hero, carrying the lonely maid to new lands. He didn't much like the notion of being the maid himself.

"Well, then, you should not have projected such on me, now should you?" She didn't even bother to look at him.

Lawrence pressed his jaw closed. He was _not_ prepared to believe she could read his mind. She was just good at guessing, that was all.

This was ridiculous. This was far from the first time he'd carried a passenger, but they were either genial and demure, excited for the adventure, or abrasive fellow merchants with whom he could talk business. This girl was abrasive, knowledgeable, and excited. He really wasn't sure how to deal with her.

It wasn't because she was a girl. _Woman._ No girl acted like she did.

He grasped for something to say.

"If you are so happy to be on your way, why didn't you just _leave_ Pasloe?"

Holo gave a sigh, but didn't turn to face him. "Did I not explain this to you? I could not leave of my own accord. 'Twas the wheat you carry that made my escape possible."

This very point had been... somewhat _sticking_ in his mind. "What I don't quite understand is that, well, you're a _god_. How does a village of peasants restrain a god?"

His passenger sighed. "This, too, I have already explained. I am _not_ a god. I am Holo."

"Even gods can have names."

"And still the one does not suggest the other, for surely _you_ are no god, O Lawrence."

"Fine, but still. You obviously have power that they don't."

Holo turned her gaze up to the blue sky. "As a merchant, you wield the mighty power of money, yes?"

"I don't know if I'd phrase it _quite_ like that."

"Oh... And yet you do not _disagree_ ," she said, a somewhat mocking tone in her voice. "Consider this: if you were to be attacked in the woods by a bear, do you believe you could use your money to purchase its mercy?"

Lawrence considered this. "I suppose that depends on how smart the bear is."

"A bear that covets human money? What is to prevent it from killing you and earning both a meal _and_ your money?"

"Well, I suppose I could hit it over the head with my purse."

"Ooooh; and _is_ your purse so heavy as to put down an angry bear?" Now she _did_ turn to face him. The predatory grin she wore made him wish she _hadn't_.

Lawrence scratched the side of his head and looked away, trying not to appear embarrassed. "I can't say that it is, no."

He saw her nod out of the corner of his eye. "Then consider that for all my power, I could do nothing to leave that village. Not once the promise had been made." She turned away from him to look out toward the south again.

"Not before it was far too late."

Lawrence wondered if he shouldn't perhaps just drop the subject... but "you still haven't explained _how_ it was that they kept you there. I've known the people of Pasloe for several years now, and I don't recall them having any great wizards."

Another sigh. "Didst you not see for yourself how they locked that Chloe in the barn?"

"But that wasn't you. It was just... I mean, locking someone in a barn doesn't _do_ anything aside from, well, locking them in a barn."

"So literal-minded..." The girl turned back to look at him. "Let us say you make a contract with someone in a village. You promise that, in a year's time, you will return with some certain goods. A year passes; will you be there with those goods?"

Lawrence nodded. "Barring some catastrophe or going bankrupt, yes."

"But why? Could you not merely choose not to return? Bring some different goods to trade?"

"No! I mean, _yes_ , it's _possible_ , but I wouldn't _do_ that."

"Oh? And why is that?"

He frowned. "I know what you're getting at, but that's _different_. I would return because to do otherwise would damage my reputation. An untrustworthy merchant is no merchant at all."

"But it is not so different. Words spoken with sincerity have power. Even you know this, in a way. Is it so hard to imagine that there are words which _I_ would feel compelled to honour?"

Words that could compel a god? "... you mean magic?"

Holo shrugged and leant back against the wagon. "If that is what you wish to call it. I gave my word; even if they did not remember, they held me to it still."

"But couldn't you—"

"I do not wish to talk more on this," she interjected. "After so long, the sounds of the world change. For once, even the inane twittering of the birds is pleasant." She closed her eyes and slumped into the bench. "I wish to listen."

He let himself smile, and sighed. Maybe, with the little he seemed to know on the subject, the words of birds had power, too.

The cart rolled along under the endless blue sky.


	3. S1E02: Wolf and Meal

It was a bright, warm, lazy day. The cart rumbled its way steadily along the road as it wound through the valley. It made a pleasant change from the usual: to be a passenger once again. He could take the time to bask in the sun and scenery, or even catch up on some rest, without worrying about plowing the cart and its load into a ditch.

The caravan was still days from its destination. Once there, he could get his horse and cart from the stables and continue north. He'd be taking... something... something valuable. He would make a great profit on it. He would be _that_ much closer to owning his own shop.

The clouds drifting overhead made him feel sleepy. So sleepy. The white, fluffy clouds reminded him of a pillow.

No.

No, they weren't fluffy. They were dark, and heavy. Fleeing to the south. It had rained... rained _so hard_. It was a wonder the inn hadn't washed away. But that was last night. Now, the sun was shining.

Or it had been. Where had it gone? Where had the sky gone? A thick, dark canopy was above him. A forest. They'd gone into a forest. A short-cut. They could shave a day and a half off their journey this way.

Wasting time was wasting money. Of _course_ they took the short-cut.

They couldn't have known.

They came out of the undergrowth suddenly. Dogs. Wild dogs. Growling and snapping and barking.

Keep going. Just keep going. There was a pole in his hand. The dogs were just hungry; toss them a few scraps, hit any that got too close. They'd give up and fight over the food.

That had been _his_ salted beef. Lousy mutt.

Then, another sound came from the distance. Almost a whisper; a wisp of sound threading through the trees, trying to sneak by unnoticed.

Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

_Wolves._

Keep going. No, go faster. The few dogs still following them broke off. Ran away. Light the torches.

The forest closed in around them. Every tree was like a hand, reaching down to trap them. Fingers closing around his throat.

_Keep going._

Another howl. The other side. Closer. Were they surrounded?

Keep calm, keep going. Grab the meat and cheese. Get ready to toss it.

The horses whinny. The caravan stops; stops? No! Don't stop! What's going on?!

Oh. No, no god, please no. A landslide. The road is gone. The trees are all so close; too close to go around to turn back.

They howl. Right behind him. He can feel their breath on the back of his neck. Glinting pinpricks in the darkness.

Abandon the carts! No, grab his pack. He could still salvage this. Over the shoulders. Now run.

Into the forest. Trees whipping at his face. Faster. Run faster! They're right behind! They don't want scraps; they want a _meal_. They're gaining!

A snap. A thud. A cry. Someone has fallen. Don't look back, don't look back...

He has a name. _Had_ a name. I can't remember it. But I remember the face. The look. His hand reaching out, begging.

The scream. _The blood_. The gurgling noise. The thrashing.

Run, just run. Can't save him. Save yourself. _Save yourself!_

A rustling sound... a tree branch! Duck under! Stumble, but keep running. Another cry. _What?_

Someone else, fallen, _not me_ , trying to stand up. Swearing.

A branch in his hand.

Run faster. Have to get ahead. The others might try the same. Faster! _Faster!_

A tree root grabbed me. No! I didn't fall! But I have! My legs, _they don't work!_ I can't get up! No, _don't leave me!_

_I don't want to die here!_

Hot breath.

A low growl.

Roll over, then pain. My chest, it hurts. So heavy. A paw as big as my head. I look up.

The wolf is immense, it's jaws open, glistening with saliva.

A puff of hot breath.

Odd eyes. _Familiar_ eyes.

_Red eyes._

"I want to obtain your power."

It opens its jaw wide, taking my head into its mouth...

The sharp teeth close with a _snap_.

Silence. The dead silence of the grave.

Or the middle of the night. Even the bugs must be asleep. The moon hung high in the sky.

Lawrence blinked the dream from his eyes. Then, he slowly turned over.

Holo was lying there completely silently, sound asleep. Her delicate features unguarded and relaxed, her auburn hair spread out over the furs. Like some misplaced princess, running away from home.

His eyes were drawn to her ears, then to her tail clutched in her arms.

She really _was_ a wolf. It was so easy to forget that, in spite of the ears and tail.

He frowned. A dog you could trust; it either liked you, or it didn't. They were too simple to be _truly_ dangerous. Wolves were _different_.

This was as bad as carrying cargo that he didn't understand or know how to sell. That it came complete with teeth, giant paws and an at-times nasty attitude just made things _worse_.

It occurred to him that he really didn't _know_ much about her, not really. He knew that old tales had a tendency to get twisted over the years. What if she hadn't stayed in the village by choice, but had, instead, been chained there by a cleric trying desperately to stop her rampaging across the countryside...

...eating all the potatoes. He yawned.

How she'd acted at the well that morning came to mind.

He turned his back to her once more and tried to go back to sleep. If nothing else, _this_ wolf didn't seem _likely_ to try eating him any time soon. He still couldn't quite shake the feeling that she was more dangerous than she seemed... but being a merchant was about risk. Besides, she had _no reason_ to attack him. It wasn't as though he was keeping her captive. That thing about gaining a human's powers by eating their head was more than likely just made up.

...but it probably wouldn't hurt to buy her something tasty when they got to Pazzio... _just to be safe_.

Fitfully, he drifted back to sleep.


	4. S1E03: Wolf and Eating

He'd had to pull one of the blankets out in order to bundle up the frankly ridiculous pile of apples Holo had bought. He was a man of rational and careful spending, buying only what he needed (aside from the occasional frivolous expense to keep his spirits high).

Forty seven. She'd bought _forty seven_ apples. Who _does_ that? He could still remember the confusion in the vendor's voice as he'd tried to comprehend that, yes, this slip of a girl wanted to spend an _entire_ trenni silver on his finest apples.

He shook his head as he ascended the stairs to their room on the second floor. He'd had to go back for the apples after carrying his own things up. Lawrence had been tempted to leave them in the cart, but Holo had insisted. Besides which, there was a risk of some local children filching a few from his cart, even in this part of town.

He didn't want to think about how Holo might react to that. So, up with his things, then back down, out to the cart, chasing off two young boys who had only served to reinforce his sense of clairvoyance, gathering up the pile of fruit lying on the furs, and now lugging them up the stairs.

When he finally made it through the door, there she sat, kneeling on the bed. She looked over excitedly as he entered. "Oh! Bring them here!"

He closed the door behind him, and stood resolutely in place. He wasn't a butler. She could ask _nicely_.

The moments slipped by slowly as Holo's expression shifted from happy, through confused, past irritated, skirted the edge of what _might_ have been disbelief, and finally into contrition.

"Please?" She even tilted her head slightly sideways. He got the feeling he was being made sport of, but it would do. He walked over to the bed she was kneeling on, and poured the apples out in front of her.

Her eyes lit up like a child being given a chunk of honeycomb.

She immediately dove into the closest apple, taking a huge bite out of it, tail waving back and forth behind her. Lawrence shook his head and went to pack the blanket away.

"Thath inn— _(gulp)_ innkeeper is quite the talkative one."

"Oh, is he now?" Lawrence replied as he hunted around his pack for his journal.

"Oh, indeed." _(chomp)_ "I pare fay, fe woob haff—"

"Please don't talk with your mouth full." It was in here _somewhere_... unless _someone_ had moved it when they went searching for more jerky...

Holo paused. "Fhy noff?"

"Because it's childish and... and... _unbecoming_." Oh, of course, it was in the back pocket after that incident with the old waterskin.

Holo grinned. "Of fo! Fiff amoyffs ou, fuff if?"

He turned around to face her. A thought occurred to him. "No, not really; it just makes you seem less dignified, is all."

They stared at each other for a long moment, the invisible and silent battle between them raging. Or so Lawrence assumed, he wasn't sure what exactly was going on.

Holo swallowed the mouthful of apple, cleared her throat, and said: "I dare say, he would have talked my ears off, had I not feigned exhaustion."

Lawrence turned back to the desk, journal in hand. He tried with all his might not to look smug. "No doubt he was trying to get you to patronise his good friend's bar tonight."

"Among other topics." Holo bit into the apple twice more, chewed thrice, then swallowed. At this rate, she was going to end up choking on her food again, and he wasn't sure he wouldn't laugh at her next time. "He is a man rather proud of his town; he seemed particularly enthusiastic about..." she continued to savage the juicy fruit behind his back as he tried to find the address for the trading house— "...the water roads." —he wanted to...

"What?" He turned around again.

Holo considered the pile, and snatched up an apple that was _apparently_ superior to the others, then bit a hole in its side. She chewed on it. And chewed. She looked up at him, smiling guilelessly. And chewed. _And chewed._ So _that's_ how it was going to be, was it?

"Sorry, he was talking about _what?_ "

Holo finally swallowed. "Water streets. Or some such. I did not quite follow."

Lawrence considered this as Holo took more bites out of the apple, barely chewing before she swallowed. "You mean the tunnels?" Holo shrugged.

"Must be; Pazzio has an apparently rather fine network of— well... underground tunnels people have built to carry water around the city."

Holo swallowed another mouthful of mildly worried apple. "But the city has such a fine river nearby. It seems a tremendous effort to avoid such a—" _(chomp)_ "—ffort journey." Lawrence gave up.

"Perhaps. But Pazzio is quite a successful port town. Quite aside from the numerous trading houses, there are more than a few rather wealthy individuals living here. Of course, they _could_ hire servants to drag buckets of water up from the river... but why do that when you can pay to have water flow directly into a private cistern?"

The sound of apples being devoured continued as Holo seemed to ponder this. How many had she already—

"Aye, I can imagine the type of person who would go to such lengths. I have met them before. No doubt being able to simply lay in bed all day being brought food and drink would be their greatest dream."

Lawrence chose to just move on. "I hear they're also popular with criminals and the secretive."

Holo looked to him, apparently disappointed for some reason. "Well, they _are_ tunnels. It is to be expected." He tried to think of something more interesting.

"Ah, but did you know that resourceful people not only use the tunnels, but dig their own?"

"Oh ho?" Another apple was consumed in the ongoing genocide of its kind.

He nodded and began his pontification. "Indeed; after all, once you have a complex network of tunnels under a town, who is going to notice one or two more? It's not as though the town council is sending people down with maps to double-check the layout. Out of sight, out of mind."

"You have seen as such with your own eyes?" Holo asked with a worrying sweetness in her voice.

"Not _personally_ , no."

"Oh, so you have been told by a trustworthy source, then?"

"He was—" rather drunk _and_ an inveterate fabricator, "—quite possibly making the whole thing up." He sighed, scratched his head, and went back to his journal. "Nevermind."

Holo smiled and dove back into her apples with gusto.

It didn't take Lawrence long to find the details of the trading company in question. It had been three years since he'd last been there... yes, selling wheat. They'd do nicely. He pictured the way through the city to the docks, and put the journal into his pocket.

Holo was still eating.

"Are you _really_ going to eat _all_ of those?"

Holo paused, mid chew, shuffled the lumps of apple around in her mouth, said "yes" carefully and with perfect elocution, then continued eating.

"Right now?"

She ignored him and kept eating.

"Surely your stomach cannot be _that_ spacious..."

Holo got up, gathered together a pile of apple cores, carried them over to the desk, then dumped them next to him before going back to the bed.

"We shall see... I am a wolf," she said, presumably by way of explanation.

"...and? Are all wolves gluttons?"

"Quite," she said proudly, taking a bite out of another apple. "Wolves never know when their next meal will come. It may be tomorrow, the day after, in a week. When we find food, we eat as much as we can, that we do not go hungry later."

"Doing that out in the wilderness, I can understand... but you don't think I'd let you go _hungry_ , do you?"

She stopped her gorging, and turned to smirk at him briefly, before resuming. He decided to concentrate on the pile of discarded apple cores now sitting next to him.

" _No_ , I do _not_. It is not something you are capable of, Lawrence."

She was beginning to warm to him, was that it? She could not help but see the good in him... he _wanted_ to believe that, but something was telling him that—

"Your foolish male pride would _never_ allow you to let a pretty girl go hungry."

Yes, he was _definitely_ beginning to understand how this game was played.

Well, that was fine. She still had _plenty_ of apples left to go. He would just sit _right here_ and when she could eat no more, he'd get his own back.

That'd show her.


	5. S1E04: Merchant and Loss

Lawrence slammed his shoulder against the side of the cart again. It barely shifted this time. It felt like with each push, he was making less progress. He pulled back, took a breath, and threw himself against the cart again.

It creaked in protest, but moved not an inch. The cart was well and truly stuck; one wheel had gone into a deep, steep gouge in the road, tilting the whole thing sideways and lifting the opposite wheel off the ground.

"Stop that; 's not much point." His master stood up, dusting his knees off. "Rear axle's knackered. Old girl's finally had it." Under his breath, he added, "useless _fucking_ road."

"Well... maybe we can fix it?" Lawrence asked, hoping it would be so.

His master turned an annoyed look on him. "Oh, and I suppose you've got a nice straight bit of wood and some tools with you, eh?"

Lawrence looked away sheepishly "... no."

"Well, there you are, then. About the only thing the cart's good for now is hacking up to make a roadside stall. And us without any strawberries, too."

Lawrence sniffed, trying not to cry in front of him. "... I'm sorry. If I'd been paying more attention..."

The merchant sighed heavily. "Look, what's done is done. I'll give you a good hiding for this later if it makes you feel any better. I didn't see the bloody hole, either."

Lawrence slumped down to the ground, miserable. "What do we do, then?"

His master took a deep breath and looked over the forest toward the nearby mountain range. "Looks like a storm's brewin', in from the west. Got a few hours, I reckon... we should be able to get a decent ways on foot."

"On foot? But what about the goods?" The cart had been loaded almost to capacity at the last town. There were several sturdy wooden barrels filled with dried beans, and bolts of cloth in what seemed to be all the colours of the rainbow.

The older man scratched at the small beard on his chin. "The beans we'll have to leave. The barrels are too heavy, and we've not got any decently-sized sacks. The bolts of cloth... I suppose we can tie 'em together and carry what we may on our backs.

"That'll have to do."

"But!"

"But _what,_ boy?" The man shot him a withering look.

"... between the food and the cloth we can't take, won't we lose a lot of money?"

"Oh, indeed. I daresay the guild will cover some of the loss, but you're quite correct. It's a buggered bit of luck."

There had to be another way! "Why don't we wait? I could run ahead to the town and get some help."

This made his master laugh uproariously. " _Run?!_ We're three days from the next town by foot if you've forgotten. You might not be some fat town merchant, but I don't recall you running any footraces. I expect you'd be hunched over, chuckin' your guts up by the side of the road inside 'a mile."

Lawrence's cheeks burned. So he didn't do a lot of running? So what?

"Besides, I don't like the idea of stickin' around. These ruts in the road... the paranoid in me thinks they look a little too clean. A little _too_ precisely cut."

Lawrence swallowed. "Bandits?"

"Could be. You set snares to catch rabbits, you dig pot holes to catch merchants. _Bastards._ " He kicked at the suspended wheel, causing it to slowly turn with a slight squeak. "No, we'll take what we can carry and just accept the losses. Come on; grab your things and let's get moving. No call to stick around."

His master grabbed a bag and started stuffing it with various essentials, but Lawrence couldn't quite find the strength to get up.

The silence was punctuated only by the sound of the cart's drawers being unpacked.

"It happens."

Lawrence stared at the ground. "It wasn't supposed to."

"I know. Like I said, it's a buggered bit of luck on your first real trade." The man sized up a cooking pot, then tossed it back into the cart.

"I was going to make a profit." He remembered counting out the coins. Tallying up the projected profits. It had been so close, he could almost _taste_ them.

"I agree."

Lawrence sat bolt upright at this. "You didn't say—"

"Of _course_ not; I wanted you to decide on your own. I was quite pleased with your planning, be told. But like I said, it happens."

All that money. To just... _leave_ it here... after all the work he'd put in. No! "I won't give up!" He pushed himself to his feet, determined to do... to do _something!_

His master sighed. "Look, I know this is important to you, but remember: part of being a merchant is always knowing the value—and cost—of _everything_. Not just material value, but the cost of every action you do or don't take."

He turned to Lawrence, an uncharacteristically consolatory look on his face. "And most of all, you have to know the cost of not giving up. It's a fine attitude in children's stories, but in the real world, being too stubborn can get you killed, or worse, _bankrupt_.

"You have to be able to think about these things without getting too wound up. Don't get obsessed with how much you've bet; you have to keep an eye on how much you stand to _lose_ if you play a weak hand."

Lawrence fidgeted under the growing sense of powerlessness. "What if the cargo's _really_ valuable? Sometimes—"

"There's _always_ a value. Always a point where the investment isn't worth risking your arse. _Has to be._ As soon as there isn't, it's not business any more; it's _obsession_."

Lawrence's shoulders sagged. What _could_ he do? Pray and hope God could take the last 20 minutes back? Whisk them and their cart to the next town?

He felt on the verge of tears again. He could _see_ what he had to do... but... but...!

_"I don't like this."_

His master gave a single huff. "No one does." He tossed Lawrence a length of rope. "Now start tying up as much cloth as you think you can carry. Don't go overboard. If you get greedy, I'm leaving you for the vultures."

"Right." Lawrence nodded and got to work.


	6. S1E05: Merchant and Anxiety

He couldn't sleep. Marlheit had suggested that he try to get some rest, but it was useless. He was too wound up. It wouldn't be the first all-nighter he'd pulled, but he knew he'd pay for it later. By afternoon, he'd probably be ready to topple over and pass out. Hopefully, they'd be well out of the reach of Medio and the church by then.

This whole situation was insane. At what point had he gone from a careful, considered merchant to someone who leapt out of second story windows, or threatened to send powerful traders to the stake? He'd tried to think of an obvious moment where he'd been replaced with some brash, foolish, younger version of himself, but couldn't come up with anything.

Perhaps he'd been like this all along and just hadn't _noticed_.

After the adrenaline had worn off, and there was nothing to do but wait for morning so that the plan could be put into action, Lawrence had started to think. This had proven to be a _spectacularly_ bad idea.

It wasn't as though he'd never been in trouble before, but this had a different feel to it. He'd been robbed by bandits, though luckily he'd never been seriously hurt. On one occasion, he'd actually struck up a conversation with a bandit, who'd calmly explained that, _really,_ the whole encounter was down to largely unavoidable socio-economic factors. Their meeting was less a conscious _choice_ and more a consequence of a logical chain of decisions by too many people to ever _truly_ assign blame. They were all merely acting out the best actions available to them at that particular point in time.

Hadn't stopped him from taking the cartload of iron ore, and leaving Lawrence trussed up like a roast bird by the side of the road, mind. Made for an amusing story, if nothing else.

He'd been attacked by wolves... but really, they'd just been _hungry_. Or felt threatened. Holo had obviously been making that stuff about power up. _Obviously_. At least, he _really_ hoped so.

He'd been caught in a landslide, and spent three days trapped in a cabin, no escape from the quiet tomb it had been made into. He'd begun to feel unmoored from the outside world by the end. It was a good thing he'd been dug out when he was, or he might've lost his mind.

He sighed, exhausted, and rubbed one eye.

But Medio... they had threatened to turn Holo, and by extension himself and Milone, over to the _church_.

Somehow, the bandits and wolves _paled_ in comparison.

As a merchant, he'd travelled far and wide; where he couldn't, he'd get news from those who did. Most people in the towns and villages probably just thought of their local pastor, or caring nuns, when they pictured the church. The kindly people guiding people safely though the vale of tears and on to their eternal rest.

And yet, Lawrence couldn't help but think of the stories he'd heard of the northern campaigns to convert, subjugate, or destroy the pagans. Villages wiped out for refusing to submit. Of girls dragged out of their homes and burned at the stake for being unable to prove they _weren't_ witches.

There were worse, but he tried never to think about those stories.

They'd always felt distant... abstract. As though... they might have happened, but not to _him_. Not to anyone _he_ knew. There was an air of unreality to them that failed to match the actual _people_ he saw day-to-day.

But now, when he stopped to think about what might happen if they failed tomorrow, he felt a chill run down his arms. A merchant had to have a good imagination to find opportunities to make a profit.

Right now, he wished he could cut his _out._

What of Holo? Could she even _be_ killed? If he escaped with the wheat in his breast pocket, would they just torture her forever until he ground it up? What if—

He slapped himself.

This wasn't helping. He was obsessing over things he could do _nothing_ about.

He wasn't going to sit by and just let this happen. Holo was... Holo had shown that she could practically conjure profits from thin air. It would be insane to let talent like that slip through his hands.

Marlheit's plan was the best bet they had for freeing Holo, and making sure Medio had no opportunity to come after them or exact revenge.

Come what may, he had committed to this.

Looking out the window, he saw the sky beginning to lighten. He got up, and went to see if he could bother someone for a bit of breakfast.

Hold tight, Holo; just a bit longer.

He _was not_ going to give up.


	7. S1E06: Wolf and Recovery

Into the forest. Trees whipping at his face. Faster. Run faster! It's right behind! It doesn't want scraps; it is _angry_. It's gaining!

A crash. A thud. A cry. Someone has fallen. Don't look back, don't look back...

He has a name. _Had_ a name. I never knew it. But I remember the face. The look. One hand clutching a club, the other reaching out, afraid.

The scream. _The crunch_. The tumble. The whimpering.

Run, just run. Can't save him. Save yourself. _Save yourself!_

A whistling sound... a blade! Duck under! Stumble, but keep running. Another cry. _What?_

Someone else, fallen, _not me_ , trying to stand up. Swearing.

A knife in her hand.

Run faster. Have to get ahead. The others might try the same. Faster! _Faster!_

I'm lying on the ground. No! I ran! But I never did! My legs, _they don't work!_ I can't get up! No, _don't come any closer!_

_I don't want to die here!_

Hot breath.

A low growl.

Curl up, hide. My arm, it hurts. So weak. Blood dripping to the cobbles below. I look up.

The wolf is immense, it's jaws open, glistening with saliva.

A puff of hot breath.

"Lawrence."

Sad eyes. _Familiar_ eyes.

"Lawrence!"

_Red eyes._

"Look away."

It opens its jaw wide, taking my head jerked as he woke up. He was sitting in the chair, his arms on the table. Sitting up, he turned to see Holo staring at him. "It is getting late; do you intend to sleep through supper?"

"Ah, sorry," he said, rubbing his temple, trying to dispel the dream. "I must have dozed off."

This comment seemed to worry Holo a little. "I am not certain you have recovered enough from your injuries."

He suddenly became aware of the dull pain in his arm. "It _does_ still hurt a..."

"'Tis quite unbecoming for a man of your age to be mewling over such a tiny scratch."

He frowned at her. She wore a look of... pity? _Pity?!_ "You'll have to excuse me, this is the first time I've been stabbed through the arm while trying to lead someone to safety." This was _her_ fault, after all.

She turned up her nose. "Such a _tiny_ sting should be of little note, even if 'twas incurred in saving a princess!"

Lawrence sighed. "Well, that's fine, then." He pushed himself to his feet, and looked around. "Since I wasn't saving a _princess,_ after all." He winced as he reached for his jacket.

"Lawrence," Holo interjected, the playfulness in her voice gone. "Are you truly feeling well enough?"

He rubbed the spot on his arm where he'd been stabbed. _And_ bitten. "I think so; it's sore and stings a little, but I think I'm mostly just tired."

"I am glad." She smiled with relief, and he smiled in return. "I was so worried that..." she averted her eyes bashfully. "So _very_ worried that we... would not be able to have a good meal."

He sighed. Holo laughed and took his right arm in her hands and led him out the door.

* * *

If the day hadn't been so exhausting, they'd probably have had more of a celebration. As it was, they went to a nearby tavern recommended by the innkeeper and found a relatively quiet table in the corner. Dinner consisted of surprisingly good roast lamb; the meat arrived dripping with fat and surrounded by roast vegetables: potatoes, carrots, and parsnips. The beer was unremarkable, but did its job, washing the food down. For once, he even seemed to be keeping up with Holo's drinking.

It also gave Holo several chances to sneak morsels of food from her own plate and on to Lawrence's when she thought he couldn't see. This was typically followed by her admonishing him for not eating enough. "If one is injured, one must eat to regain one's strength!"

Dutifully, he made sure to eat whatever it was she had put on his plate, without saying a word. Even so, he had a feeling Holo knew _exactly_ what he knew, and what he was thinking.

But then, that _was_ part of the game, wasn't it?

When they arrived back at their room, the sun had long since set, and a waning moon was out. Holo had started eating some of the apples she'd brought up in a crate from the cart. She was again sitting on her bed, a pile of apples before her.

"You're still hungry?"

"Ha! I am Holo the Wise Wolf! I can easily eat five—no, _ten_ times this many apples!"

At this point, he was ready to believe she had a truly unending capacity for eating. He wouldn't be surprised if all the apples were gone by the end of tomorrow. He gave a huff of amusement and left her to her apples.

He was flipping through some papers that Milone had given him. Certificate for the pepper, records of the particulars of the deal with Medio, a brief analysis on the history of pepper prices in the nearby—he yawned, then flinched as the movement agitated his wound again.

It was then that he noticed Holo looking at his arm. He smiled. "It's fine, really."

It was Holo's turn to sigh. "I am sorry if I made it worse, that I am."

Lawrence blinked. Oh, right. The biting.

... that reminded him. "Why _did_ you bite me?"

Holo tilted her head. "Pardon?"

"Why did you bite me?"

"Was it not obvious? You were in no condition to fight them off; I had no choice but to act."

"No, I mean... you had your pouch with you, couldn't you have eaten some of the wheat?"

Holo looked like she was having trouble coming up with an answer. He suddenly realised that what he said _might_ have come across as ungrateful. "I don't mind, I mean, you saved us both, so I'm not upset or anything; it just seemed like it wasn't ne—not that I know what the rules for this sort of thing _are_ , but even if it—"

Holo held up a hand to silence him. "If you truly wish to know: yes, I _could_ have used the wheat to transform."

Lawrence composed himself and nodded. "So, there was a reason you... uh..."

"Used your blood instead?"

"Yes, that."

Holo nodded sagely. "Indeed. I was _very_ angry."

Lawrence considered this. "You... can't use wheat when you're angry?"

"What? Do not be silly," she said, shaking her head. "What I mean is this: yes, I have an affinity for wheat, and can draw power from it. But blood; that is a power far older and more potent. It has been an age since I last took that form in anger.

"I did not want to leave them any chance of escape."

Ah.

"Does that bother you?"

He gave this some thought.

"... No." Holo's ears flicked. "While we're talking about that... I wanted to apologise."

"Oh? For what do you wish to apologise?" Holo raised one elegant eyebrow. Lawrence _hated_ people who could do that.

"For cowering before your true form. That was... stupid and ungrateful of me."

Holo looked away from him, and did not say anything for what felt like an age. "It hurt."

"I know. I was afraid."

"And are you afraid still?"

"No." Holo's ears flicked again. That little motion made him feel wretched... but he also felt slightly put upon. He stood, walked over to Holo, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Holo, I would not travel with someone I feared."

She stared up at him, ears resolutely still.

"It... might take me a few tries to get used to my companion, but if I didn't want to travel with them, I simply wouldn't."

Holo gave him a small smile, and leaned forward slightly to rest her head on his chest. She must have been worried that he still harboured reservations about going with her to the north. He raised his hand to hold the back of her hea—

"I suppose that will do. 'Twas hardly the most _definitive_ proclamation, but then, what more can I expect from a boy?" She pulled her head back, grinning. "If you truly wish to make a girl feel wanted, you should be more _assertive!_ "

Lawrence felt his face twitch slightly. Irritated, he continued with as little emotion as he could fail to muster: "Oh, you mean something like _'my dearest Holo, continuing our journey together is more important to me than all the goods in my cart!'_?"

Holo waved a hand dismissively. "Your delivery is rather lacking; you shall require practice. But do not worry, I am sure we shall find time on the long road ahead." She gave him one last toothy grin, then settled back into her apples.

Lawrence sighed and rubbed his temple as he sat back down at the table. He felt like he was beginning to get a handle on the game she seemed to be playing with him.

As Holo chuckled at him from her bed, he just wished he could work out why he felt both irritated and happy at the same time.


	8. S1E07: Merchant and Wood

The sun was approaching the horizon as the town came into sight.

"There it is," the old man proclaimed. "Just in time, too. Much later and the guards'd have closed the gate."

"Oh, but surely they would not leave a venerable old gentleman such as yourself to freeze in the night!" Holo exclaimed.

"Ha! Wouldn't put it past 'em. I've caused me share of trouble over the years. I daresay Edwin would relish the opportunity to teach me a lesson!" The wiry old lumberjack laughed uproariously. It had been a bit of luck running into him on the road.

He had been sitting there by the road, leaning on his axe, a bundle of wood at his side. Apparently, he had been on his way home, stepped awkwardly on a rock, and twisted his ankle.

An unexpected benefit of carrying him home had been the way he'd kept Holo distracted the last few hours. After a few slow days on the road, she was champing at the bit for a soft bed and a hot meal.

A hot meal that _wasn't_ gruel and hard rye bread.

Stories of his misadventures as a lad had kept her from pestering Lawrence.

As they came up to the main gate, they could see a pair of travellers arguing with the guards. Although too far for Lawrence to hear, the way the guards were gesticulating indicated that the travellers were being denied entry, and they weren't happy about that. He also couldn't fail to notice that the gate appeared to be closed already.

"This doessn' look promising..." the old man mumbled. Lawrence agreed.

As the cart arrived, the two travellers turned away and left, throwing Lawrence a dirty look as they passed. With a visible sigh, the guard turned his attention to Lawrence. The young man in ill-fitting armour held up a mailed hand. "No entry! The gates is closed to all and sundry!"

"Could I a—" Lawrence began, but he was cut off.

"Closed my withered old backside! Edwin, what's going on?!"

"Aww lord... what are you doing still out at 'dis hour?"

"I twisted me ankle up the road on me way back. These fine people here were kind enough to give me a ride. Now open the gate and let us in!"

"I can't _do_ that. There's _rules._ "

"Do you want me to have a talk with your mother, _boy?_ "

The young man seemed to pale at this. "Look, it's not my decision! The alderman hisself told us!"

"To close the gate on me? The _nerve_ o' that..."

"No! It was these travellers. Edric recconised one of 'em as comin' from Kuskov. We turned 'em away like we's s'posed to. Then the alderman came down and told us to close the gate 'till mornin'!"

"Well, these two aren't from Kuskov; I met 'em on the road up from Pazzio."

"But I'm not..."

"...going to keep the gate closed, 'cause if you do, sonny-boy, I'll be having _words_ with your mum. _Strong_ words."

The young guard turned to his compatriot, but the other man appeared to be trying to surreptitiously sink into the earth to avoid being seen by the cranky old firebrand. Holo was watching the exchange with what Lawrence suspected might be _glee_.

"Uhhh... if I lose me job over this..."

"I'll tan that bloody know-it-all's arse myself!"

The young man sighed heavily, and called for the gate to be opened. Lawrence shook his head, and gave a light flick of the reigns. His passenger crossed his arms and huffed, "I swear..."

Once they were through the gates, Holo turned to the old man. "Why did they turn those travellers away? Did they do something wrong?"

"It's the sickness, isn't it?" Lawrence interjected.

The old man nodded. "The council here are pretty worried, from what I hear."

"Sickness?" asked Holo, looking back and forth between the two.

Lawrence nodded. "I passed through Kuskov on my way south a little while ago; apparently, the population had dropped by a third. The situation seemed pretty dire."

"I heard it was closer to a half now," the old man added.

Lawrence stared forward and said nothing.

"Ah, here's me home! Please, come in. I'm sure me wife will be happy to make you a bowl of stew as thanks!"

Lawrence smiled, glad for the change of subject. "We'd be happy to."

* * *

Lawrence considered the map on the table in front of him. Still a few days from their next stop. Holo was leaning out of the window of their room, looking up at the night sky. The hearty stew they'd had for dinner had cheered her up immensely. Now that he thought about it, he should _probably_ see about getting some good jerky before departing. It might serve to keep Holo marginally more—

"Where are we now?"

It was vaguely distressing to be continually reminded just how silently wolves could move. He cleared his throat and pointed to the map. "Here."

"Are we selling the pepper _here_ , then?"

Lawrence sighed. "No. We won't be doing business at every town we pass through."

"I was merely curious. Is this a bad place to sell pepper?"

"It's not that it's bad... transporting goods isn't cheap. Aside from the unavoidable costs, there are risks, too. If you are going to transport something, you want to transfer it far enough to be worth the effort."

"Obviously; you make your money in taking the risk on shipping goods that the purchasers themselves do not wish to find and transport."

Lawrence blinked. "... Yes." He coughed theatrically. "However, there is some nuance to it."

"Oh ho! _Do tell,_ " Holo purred, grinning. He ignored this.

"The cost of a product increases along with the distance it must be transported. Take salt, for example: it can be _very_ expensive if you are far from the ocean. Go far enough, however, and the price will drop again on approaching the other coast, or a place where they mine it.

"In truth, it is the lowest effort expendable on transport that determines the cost. In the case of this pepper, although it isn't grown anywhere nearby, there is _this_." He moved his finger over the map. "This is a large city, so it has _plenty_ of caravans shipping goods to it on a constant basis. Those big caravans can transport goods for prices that small merchants like myself just can't hope to match.

"Not to mention, the city also acts as a hub for trade. Some of the goods that end up in Ruvinheigen will feed out to the surrounding towns and villages. Of course, as they do so, the price will go up. Depending on the circumstances, getting those goods indirectly through a nearby city will be cheaper than getting them directly from the same source."

Lawrence turned to Holo to see if she understood.

"Naturally. There is safety in numbers, after all. The merchants that travel in packs to the large city face less risk than the lone merchant travelling to the small town, yes?" Holo asked, looking slightly bored.

Some times, it felt like trying to outsmart Holo was like trying to catch a chicken while blind-folded. You were more likely to get your hands pecked to shreds than succeed. He forced a smile to his face and nodded.

"It's not that I wouldn't make a profit selling there, but I wouldn't get the preferential treatment at the trading houses that the big caravans do. On the other hand, those deals mean the caravans would make _less_ money if they sold their stock to smaller places like Poroson. Since I have only a small quantity of pepper to sell, I will make more profit selling to the smaller town than the larger one; though if I was dealing in bulk and had a prior arrangement, the situation could well be reversed."

"Would you not make even _more_ profit selling to somewhere out of the way, like this?" She planted her finger on another dot the size of Poroson's, further away from both nearby cities.

"No, I don't think so. That's Kuskov. People struggling to find enough bread aren't likely to waste their coin on pepper."

"You said you went there; to trade, I assume?"

Lawrence looked down at the dot on the map. "Yes."

"Medicine? Food?"

"Wood, actually."

Holo blinked. "Wood?"

Lawrence stared at the map for a long moment. "It's best to burn the corpses."

Holo stared at him. "Would not food have been more needed?"

"If you ride into a town gripped by disease carrying food and without armed guard, you're rather likely to find yourself suddenly _deprived_ of said food.

"The truth is," Lawrence went on, "places like that are a boon for brave merchants. If a sickness goes on for long enough, kills or displaces enough people, the inhabitants who survive and can't escape will pay almost anything for basic goods. Food, medicine, clothes."

"Wood?"

Lawrence rolled up the map and put it away before continuing. "It's not as though I could save them, and it's not like I am rich enough to simply give away goods."

He started to pack away the rest of the papers. "We should go to bed; we're on the road again tomorrow." Holo nodded. Once she was settled in, he blew out the candle and fumbled his way through the darkness to his own mattress.

He laid down and closed his eyes.

"You think me a cruel person?" He barely spoke aloud at all.

A moment passed. "I think you a merchant."

At another time, he would have taken that as a compliment.

"You would not have acted differently, were you to return there now?"

"No, I don't think I would."

Another silent pause. "And yet, it troubles you; what you did, and what you did not do?"

He searched his thoughts, remembering the haunted look on the trader's face. He'd lost his daughter a week before. "Yes, it does."

There was the sound of a blanket shifting in the darkness. "I am relieved.

"I was right."

Somehow, that made it easier to fall asleep.


	9. S1E08: Wolf and Gruel

The rough-cut vegetables bobbed around in the gruel as it bubbled away in the pot. Lawrence could almost _smell_ the scent of the thick, rich stew they'd eaten a few days before.

But only if he concentrated _very_ hard.

Even then, he knew it was a fantasy.

* _tap, tap, tap_ *

He turned around to see Holo inquisitively rapping on a small loaf of bread with her knuckle. She seemed almost entranced by it.

Ever since they had started travelling together, the majority of their meals on the road had been Lawrence's special recipe for what he thought of as "Road Stew". The honest truth was that it was cheap, filling, and tasted of wet vegetables and bread.

The even _more_ honest truth was that it existed largely to make the rock-hard rye bread he carried with him more digestible.

The very _most_ honest truth _of all_ was that he'd expected Holo to crack sooner. _Everyone_ he travelled with for any length of time would eventually begin to question how he stayed sane eating this day after day.

"How is it, I wonder," she asked while turning the loaf over in her hands, "that humans have managed to make bread so very like a rock? It seems unthinkable to take grain grown by the land and change it so."

"It's rye bread."

She pondered this for a moment. "But even so..."

"It's _cheap_ rye bread."

She pondered _this_ for a longer moment. "I would almost suspect you of being stingy with me, had I not searched your stores the first day we travelled together. You really _do_ eat this."

"Well, thank you for snooping through my things," he said flatly.

"Can you truly blame me?" She tried experimentally hitting the bread against the side of the wagon. It made a dull * _pok_ * noise. "The villagers all seemed to regard you with some respect, the furs you carried were of a fine quality, and those clothes met even _my_ approval."

"I'm so glad," he griped.

"I do not understand why an apparently successful merchant would subject himself to..." she once more scrutinised the loaf, then held it between thumb and index finger. "... this."

"Well, it's not the only thing I eat. There's _also_ the gruel."

"Ah, yes. The gruel. Forgive me, but I was rather hoping I would not be seeing it again after our sojourn in Pazzio. And then _again_ after our sojourn in Poroson."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but this _is_ what I eat most days. Sometimes, I might get lucky and come into some fresh game... in which case, I'd add it to the pot."

Holo sighed and put her bread on the wagon's bench. "'Tis not as though I begrudge the meal..."

"Let me put it like this: the fastest way to make money is to _not_ spend it. No amount of gold made will be enough if you can't stop spending silver."

"I see," Holo said, sitting down next to the fire. As she looked up, the light of the campfire reflected in her eyes, lending her appearance an ethereal character. "I believe I understand, now."

Lawrence nodded, pleased.

She grinned. "You _are_ stingy."

"That's not fair!"

"I seem to recall you having meat when I first met you." She rested her head on an open palm. "Oh, if only there were even a scrap of meat to be had..."

"There is. I have to keep it hidden. There _was_ the mutton we got from the master of Latparron trading, but you managed to eat most of _that_ in one evening."

"How can you be so _cruel?_ I am but a poor wolf, hungry and cold." She put on her most piteous expression. At this point, it had _absolutely_ no effect on him _whatsoever_.

"I have to keep it hidden because you _ate_ most of the mutton we had in a single night."

"But it was mutton!" she protested.

"Hmm," he hummed. "While we're on the subject, I don't suppose you know why most of the dried meat mysteriously went missing by supper the day we left Pazzio." He scratched his chin. "The mystery has been weighing on my mind..."

"Mice," Holo immediately replied.

" _Mice._ "

"Indeed. They are crafty rodents."

Lawrence frowned. _"I saw you eating it."_

Holo grinned. "Oh, that. Well, you should have said something!"

"I _did_. I told you to stop eating all the meat before it was gone."

"You should have spoken more quickly, then." Her tail swished back and forth behind her as she smiled. "Oh come, can I not have just a little piece from your stash hidden clumsily in the space behind the drawer where you keep the pot?" She tilted her head to the side.

Lawrence scowled. "You know about that?"

Holo shrugged. "It is meat. Did you really believe I would not smell it, wherever you hid it?"

He sighed and rubbed his forehead in defeat. "You can have a piece after dinner."

Holo pouted at this. "You could stand to be more generous with the meat after that profit you made in Poroson..."

"I already agreed to buy you oil..."

"You also bought me new clothes in Pazzio... is meat _truly_ that expensive?" The mirth on her face was gone, replaced by what he had started to recognise as genuine curiosity. The game had been suspended, then.

"True, but those were a necessity."

"What of the clothes I tore? I never saw you wear those..."

"Well, I never had a chance since _you_ were wearing them. Anyway, they were an investment. So are the goods I carry. I put money into them, expecting to make more back in due course.

"Food, on the other hand, is an _expense_. I can't _avoid_ buying it, but every copper I shave off the cost is as good as another copper in profit.

"The cost adds up quickly.

"Anyway, I try not to bring much _expensive_ food with me because it tends to disappear all too quickly. Even when I'm _not_ carrying a certain ravenous wolf..." Holo stuck her tongue out at him.

She walked down to the fire, and knelt, staring down at the pot. "I _understand_ , you know. I am not so stupid, nor unfamiliar with travel. I recall my own long journeys, carrying a bag of rather stale bread." She sighed. "Though I also recall not being nearly as cheap as yourself."

Lawrence smiled. "As a merchant, I'll take that as a compliment!"

The bread he'd put in the pot had just about dissolved into the gruel. To be fair, he looked forward to this with about as much enthusiasm as Holo herself was showing.

"Only a little longer and we'll be in Ruvinheigen."

"And their honey-preserved peaches..."

"I told you, there's no guarantee that—"

"I choose to believe that they shall." She looked down at the bubbling gruel. "It will make what is to come easier to bear."

Lawrence chuckled. "No need to be so melodramatic. I'll tell you what," he began as he scooped a portion of the gruel into a bowl and handed it to Holo. "If we get there and they _don't_ have any honey-preserved peaches, I'll buy you a pie."

Holo's ears rustled under her hat. "Apple pie?"

Lawrence smiled. "Oh, something I think you'll like even _more_ than that." He filled his own bowl and pictured what he'd rather have as he ate.


	10. S1E09: Wolf and Pie

Lawrence directed the cart down the cobbled thoroughfare, armour rattling noisily as the stalls slowly inched by. So slowly that Holo had plenty of time to examine each one. Lawrence knew she was looking for yet more delicious things to eat.

 _Unbelievable._ She'd only just finished eating a pretzel before they left the inn and she was _already_ hungry again.

No, at this point, he knew the truth: she was _always_ hungry. Well, aside from when a hundred-some apples were concerned. He allowed himself a smile.

"What are those?" she asked, pointing to a stall coming into view. He peered at the stall.

"Bread sticks. They have some fancy foreign name I can never seem to remember."

"Are they delicious?" There was a slight rustling from under her cloak.

He shrugged. "They're bread. _Long_ bread. I don't think there's much else to say about them."

This seemed to kill any interest Holo had in eating them. Strange... the reason she'd wanted that pretzel was because of its shape. Maybe she wasn't concerned with length...

... no. _No._ He shook his head.

"Is aught the matter?" Holo was looking at him inquisitively.

"Nothing," he replied. Before she could continue, he pointed at another stall on his side. "Ah; have you ever seen those before?"

Holo looked over and her eyes lit up. "Sausages?"

He smiled and looked over at the stall. "Ah, these are _different_ from the sausages you get in towns to the south. If I remember correctly, they're made from veal, and seasoned with herbs. They're served three in a bun with shredded cabbage. _'Brut vurst'_ , it's called," he said, knowledgeably. He turned back to Holo. She did not seem all that impressed.

"I do not like the sound of cabbage. Can they not make it _without_?"

"If you made it without cabbage, it wouldn't be brut vurst," he pointed out. "People can be _very_ defensive of cultural dishes. They might take offense if you suggested leaving it out."

Holo wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms. "Ruining perfectly good sausages with _cabbage_. Humans can be thoroughly _foolish._ "

Lawrence smiled as Holo sulked, apparently unhappy with the very thought of cabbage on sausages.

He seemed to recall rather liking the taste, himself.

"Lawrence..." Holo began in a quiet voice. All of Lawrence's financial senses went on alert.

"Yes?"

"...did you not say that you would buy me a consolation if we were unable to find honeyed peaches here?"

Lawrence ran his mind over the last few days of conversation and cursed the looseness of his tongue. "I suppose I did."

"A consolation better than apple pies; surely, it must be that!" she exclaimed, pointing at another stall. Lawrence paled.

There, turning slowly on a spit was a piglet. It was a glorious dark brown, covered in what looked to be the finest crackling. It fairly _gleamed_ in the sunlight reflecting off the layer of fat that covered it. He turned to look at Holo's face. She had a look of burning desire that made his blood run cold.

Now that he was aware of it, his traitorous mind conjured the smell to accompany the sight. He had to be cautious not to let her catch him drooling.

"You want a spit-roast piglet?"

Holo nodded, not taking her eyes off it for an instant.

He _should_ just say 'no' and be done with it. It would be a _ludicrous_ expense. He could hear her tail fidgeting under her cloak, trying to escape and proclaim to the world at large, 'I want that!'.

"That is somewhat more than I had in mind." Holo turned her most dejected, miserable look on him. "A whole piglet would suffice for a grand dinner; it's rather too much for _lunch._ "

"But..."

"Another time, perhaps?" She hung her head. If her hood had been down, he suspected her ears would have drooped. Her tail fell still.

He felt like he'd kicked a puppy. A _sad_ puppy that had been left out in the rain.

Holo gave a small, almost inaudible sniffle.

He _also_ felt that she was putting it on rather _thicker_ than necessary. Then, another stall caught his eye.

"Ah, how about a compromise?" He nodded his head at the vendor in question, and Holo looked over at it.

"Pies!" She cheered up immediately, then stopped, thought for a moment, then looked at him with a calm expression. "'Tis not what I had hoped for, but I _believe_ I can make this concession."

"How magnanimous of you," Lawrence commented dryly as he pulled the cart up and hopped down. As he'd hoped, the pies were not too expensive, and looked of decent quality. Of course, that was the trick with pies...

He purchased two for a few copper coins, and got back on the cart. He handed one to Holo, and put his own on the bench beside him; he needed to get off the main thoroughfare before he could spare a hand.

Intrigued, Holo examined the pie over in her hands. "How strange. 'Tis a pie, for sure... but I can smell meat on it."

Lawrence's head suddenly snapped to look at Holo in disbelief. "You... you don't know what that is?"

She gave him a tired look. "I may be wise, but I cannot know _everything_."

He might not be able to show her new lands, but new _food_... oh, he would enjoy this. "Try taking a bite; but be careful, it will probably be quite wet inside."

Holo looked back down at the pie, anticipation showing on her features. Carefully, she took a bite.

Holo did not say anything for several seconds. A rivulet of gravy ran down from the corner of her mouth to her chin. Finally, she closed her mouth, tearing a chunk off and slowly chewed it.

The chewing lasted an _age_ , by Holo's standards.

Her eyes grew wide.

She swallowed.

She looked over to Lawrence, who found himself watching her in rapt fascination. She looked back at the pie.

The entire pie _suddenly_ disappeared.

It was a small miracle that she didn't choke to death on it. He'd never seen anyone _inhale_ nearly an entire meat pie before.

Still furiously chewing, she reached over, grabbed his arm and shook it. Between the chewing and the arm-pulling, she couldn't seem to manage any actual words. "Calm down, it's just a pie! And don't _choke_ on it!"

She swallowed, panted for a moment, then pulled on his arm again. "A pie! A pie filled with meat!"

"Yes, it—"

"'Twas deer! And gravy! It was juicy and wet!"

"I know, the—"

"But the pastry was flaky and soft! So meaty! And spices, too! And meat!"

"Holo, you can stop—"

She knelt on the bench and looked into his eyes. "I shall never forget this moment. Pies. Of meat. Of meat!"

She flopped back on to the bench beaming.

Well, _that_ had been unexpectedly successful. He thought back on the warnings his master had once given him about how inscrutable women were. Thus far, delicious food was proving a remarkably effective way into _this_ woman's good graces. He smiled broadly. "Well, I'm very glad you enjoyed it."

She nodded in vigorous agreement. "Meat pies..." she said, wistfully.

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to have not had a simple meat pie before."

Holo stared out beyond the stalls and carts. "I did," she replied, her voice becoming distant.

"It was... it was..." she bowed her head in intense concentration. "... the farmers, with the patch of long, purple flowers... yes! Yes, they insisted! They called for the boy to slaughter one of their chickens. It was so big and brown, when it emerged from the oven. Oh, the smell... and..." her head tilted this way and that as she searched her memories.

"It had a little pastry bird on the top." She looked up at Lawrence triumphantly. "'Twas a starling! They refused to eat any themselves. I came across one of their cubs, lost in the woods.

"The pie was their thanks." She smiled at the memory.

Lawrence wondered what the parents must have thought of their child being led _out_ of the forest by a wolf. He grinned. "Do you have a habit of picking up stray children?"

"But of course!

"I am travelling with you, am I not?" Holo smiled as Lawrence's expression turned sour, and settled herself back on the bench. "Still, 'tis a mystery to me; how could I forget about meat pies?" She shook her head.

"Well, the elderly often have poor memories," he offered.

Holo snorted and gave a laugh. "Mock me not, _boy;_ I have forgotten more than you shall ever know!"

"About food, perhaps." She gave a _'humph!'_ and looked away, still smiling. "Still, if it means I get to see that reaction, I won't complain."

"But... there is now a grave problem."

Lawrence looked back at her. "... what?"

"... now, I have no more pie." Slowly, inexorably, she turned to look at what was sitting on the bench beside him.

Lawrence narrowed his eyes. "That's _my_ meat pie."

"I'll be careful." Holo licked her lips. Slowly. _Lasciviously._ "I'll eat it slowly, _I promise_."

He carefully put his hand around the pie and shifted it closer to himself. "No."

Holo continued to look at it, as a hungry wolf might look at a deer. He blinked. Actually, cover the deer in pastry and that was _exactly_ what was happening.

"Now look, it's not my fault that you ate your pie in two bit—"

"Hey, watch where you're going!"

Lawrence jerked up and pulled the reigns. He had very nearly driven his horse into another cart. It was filled to the brim with sacks of grain, and the smartly dressed driver looked _none_ too pleased. "Ah! I'm very sorry, I was distracted!"

"Damn it, keep your eyes forward, not on that piece of tail!"

For a brief, horrifying moment, he wondered how he'd spotted what Holo was. Then his brain caught up. He tried not to scowl. "Yes, of course. Again, I'm very sorry!"

He carefully piloted his cart around, and turned off the main road. They weren't far from Lemerio now. At least now he could...

He reached down, but his hand closed on empty air.

He frowned.

"Where's my pie?"


	11. S1E10: Wolf and Debt

Lawrence directed the cart down the cobbled thoroughfare, the absence of the sound of rattling metal serving only to remind him of the noose around his neck. It would be a little while before they reached the trading house. He had to take a slightly circuitous route due to the wagon's girth.

He felt a shiver run down his arms. He squeezed the reigns a little tighter and tried not to think too much about his situation. One step at a time. When crossing a narrow bridge, it can be a catastrophic mistake to look down.

He took a deep breath and calmed himself. Losing his composure now would only make things worse.

"Might I ask a question?" Holo enquired from beside him.

"Of course, go ahead."

"I believe I understand the situation, but I must confess I do not understand _how_ it happened."

"Then I'll explain," he replied. With any luck, it would take his mind off the situation for a moment or two. "You understand debt, yes; the idea of owing someone money?"

"Of course; though one can have debts other than monetary ones. If you are concerned, I certainly understand the debt I have."

He nodded. "Actually, that's a useful distinction: it might help if, instead of thinking about your debt as being something _you_ have, you think of it as something _I_ have."

Holo considered this. "It is _your_ debt?"

"No; your debt is your debt, but _I_ possess it. How about this: a craftsman makes a coin box and I purchase it. I possess the coin box, but in a way, it will always the the craftsman's. Or rather, it will always have been _created_ by him."

"So I created the debt, which you now own, correct?"

Lawrence negotiated a busy intersection, and tried to remind himself that however self-conscious he suddenly felt, the other merchants could _not_ actually read his impending bankruptcy on his face. They were _not_ staring at him.

He swallowed. "That's right. That's because debt is a thing that can be bought and sold like anything else."

Holo frowned. "But it does not truly exist."

"If you think about it, neither do the rights to a plot of land, but those can be bought and sold, too."

"Well, I take issue with _that_ idea as well, but I understand that is how you humans see the world." Holo sighed. "I shall accept the idea for the purposes of this explanation," she said with a dismissive wave of a hand.

He smiled a little. "Very gracious of you. Well, then... let's go back to Latparron Trading. You understand that I took a one hundred lumione debt with them, yes?"

A moment passed. "You borrowed one hundred coins from them, then used them to purchase one hundred coins worth of armour. Though none changed hands, you both _agreed_ that they did."

Lawrence pulled the wagon to the side to avoid running into a group of people milling about in the middle of the road. "Exactly. The debt was also subject to stipulations; specifically, that there would be a repayment deadline: sundown tomorrow." He frowned. "It was a concession on my part to make the deal more palatable to the Latparron master."

"I understand all that you have said thus far... but I do not understand how this has come to rest in Lemerio's hands."

Lawrence gave a sigh and glanced up at the sky. He suddenly wished he was back in the countryside without such imposing walls around him. "Well, I can only speculate on this part. I assume he began plotting revenge the moment we departed." He gave the reigns a pull, bringing his horse to a halt. There was a commotion in front; apparently some barrels of beer had fallen off a wagon. The owner was presently trying to load them back on whilst keeping some of the more opportunistic bystanders from making off with any.

"No merchant would _ever_ take a loss just to spite another merchant." He said, still watching the man struggling to recover his goods. "The best revenge truly _is_ success; in our case, making a profit. Still, there wouldn't have been enough time for him to confer with Lemerio, so here's how I imagine it happened:

"He drew up a contract transferring my 100 lumione debt to Lemerio in exchange for some up-front fee. It would have to be something small enough that Lemerio would be certain to agree to it, but large enough to ensure Latparron still made a profit off the situation. He'd send it off with a fast rider to catch up to, if not outpace, us.

"If I had to guess, I'd say he probably asked for around seventy lumione. That would get him a small profit, not to mention the satisfaction of hoisting me by my own petard."

It looked like someone had managed to get one of the barrels rolling down the street, and now the merchant was chasing after him. If he wasn't careful, his entire load would vanish behind his back.

"Wait, would that not mean him losing thirty coins? The armour was purchased for one hundred, was it not?"

"Ah," Lawrence said, turning to face her. "That's rather the issue: the armour was only worth about sixty or so. What happened is that I foolishly paid more than that." He gave a wretched chuckle. "It's a good thing I bought at wholesale price... if I hadn't, I'd be in even _more_ trouble."

"Like the opposite of what happened with the furs in Pazzio, then."

"Yes," he admitted. "Except, even then, I do think Milone would have made a profit." The merchant had returned, having lost the barrel-roller. He'd also apparently lost two _more_ whilst distracted. Seeing a gap in the crowd, Lawrence gave the reigns a snap and started the wagon moving again.

He wasn't sure he wanted to see how this played out.

"Whatever the case, Lemerio agreed. It's possible the rider's on his way back to Poroson with a bag full of gold right now."

"If Lemerio is so desperate for money, would they have really sent so much gold away?"

"Trading associations only function so long as people can trust them. If Lemerio has a document saying I owe fifty lumione coins due by end of day tomorrow, he can be _certain_ the guild will pay.

"And the guild, in turn, will take that money out of me. One way or the other..." he squeezed the reins again and tried not to think about how they might go about accom—

He felt Holo's hand on his. "Do not forget what I said. Fear will not avail you."

He smiled and nodded. "Anyway, do you understand how it happened now?"

Holo withdrew her hand and sat back against the cart. "You borrowed one hundred coins from Latparron, which you spent on sixty coins worth of goods. That debt has been sold or given to Lemerio. Accounting for the actual value of the armour, you now owe Lemerio 50-some coins. At the end of tomorrow, he will compel your association to buy that debt from him."

"That's the shape of it."

They fell silent as they continued on to the trading house.

* * *

She could still remember the look. 'Twas the look of one betrayed, shut out to face the storm alone. Abandoned. Adrift upon the swirling currents.

Of anger and despair.

He strode away from the building, placing a look of determined bravery upon his face. For his own sake as much as her own, no doubt.

She hated the appellation of 'god'. _Loathed_ it. All that which humans did not understand, or wielded powers or knowing beyond their own, that was the realm of demons and gods and spirits. As though there could be none to stand above them, the pinnacle of mortal life.

'Twas like a cub staring in amazement at an adult and their mighty powers of tallness, able to so casually take things from high shelves.

Another acquaintance, another rejection. He walked on.

But entwined with the title was expectation. She had, not once, claimed abilities beyond those she truly possessed (though such was not uncommon among those like her). And _yet_...

They would blame her when the harvest was poor. Year after long year, they called upon her... yet when events did not proceed as they had hoped, all of a sudden she was incompetent or spiteful or indifferent. They heaped responsibility on her, but never trust.

That, at least, she could understand.

One more, he was sent away. She hurried her steps.

She could still remember the man, though. Pleading with her. _Begging_ her. Piling food and gifts, as though saving his wife were simply a matter of finding her worth in other sacrifices.

She could do nothing. He did not believe her. Rather, he believed _in_ her.

Not only was she forced to watch this cheerful woman, whom she had known since birth, whom she had chased through the fields when just a girl, laughing and whooping... forced to watch her wither away and die... she alone had to shoulder the broken man's anger and despair.

They always asked for what she could not give them.

He returned, dripping wet. His bravado was beginning to fail him.

And yet, he did not ask. He knew she did not possess the power to wave his debt away. Jests about prayers for safe passage put to the side, he knew she was simply a wolf. She had her mind and her body, and would lend either or both to him if the time came.

She knew she would never have to see that look of betrayal on _his_ face, for failing to do what she never could. He was not so unreasonable.

"Lawrence?"

"It's nothing; I've still got the next one."

For now, all she could do was stand by his side and remind him that he was not alone in this. She owed a debt to him; more than simply the coins. And, beyond that, she wished to continue their journey together.

Whatsoever happened, she would be by his side.


	12. S1E11: Wolf and Plans

Sleep.

...

_Sleep._

...

It was no use. It was like trying to will himself to not think about something.

He rolled on to his side, facing the wall.

He sighed.

...

He felt so... _oddly calm._ Yesterday, he'd lost all hope of ever escaping from this situation. He'd been ready to just throw away what little he had left so that Holo could continue on her journey without him.

He couldn't recall a time when he'd ever felt such utter despair.

Now, he felt... almost like he felt nothing. The despair was gone, but in its place was... what? He definitely wasn't happy or elated. _Or_ excited.

He wasn't especially nervous or worried.

He rolled over to the other side. He could hear Holo's faint snoring coming from above him.

Perhaps the whole situation had overwhelmed him to the point that he just stopped feeling anything at all. That was a worrying thought.

It put him in mind of a fellow travelling merchant he'd once met when he first began his tutelage. He was old and haggard, with wiry white hair and a crooked nose.

With the right clothes, he'd have made a pretty compelling witch.

He'd been carrying a shipment of coal to the town where Lawrence and his master had been doing some business. He'd come into the tavern that night, sat down, and ordered a simple meal and a pint. Lawrence had been dragged to the man's table by his master, who was always _voracious_ for information.

The man hadn't complained. He hadn't even looked up. Lawrence hadn't really paid any attention to what his master and the other trader had talked about. Lawrence couldn't get over how... lifeless and joyless the man was.

It was as though the food tasted of nothing, the beer tasted of water, and he _hadn't_ made a profit that day.

He found out later that his master knew the old man; not by name, only by reputation.

"He's a pitiable old bastard, that one," he'd explained later. "He's what happens to travelling merchants who never manage to make enough to stop being travelling merchants.

"You know, there's some who're _born_ to do this. To travel around endlessly, like a fart on the wind..."

He never _did_ work out how his master had _ever_ dealt with nobles. Presumably he'd kept a second personality secreted somewhere about himself. Maybe he'd just been a thespian in a previous life. He shook his head and rolled on to his back.

"But most of us, we only put up with this horseshit life because those're the cards we got dealt." He'd turned to Lawrence at that. "Be honest, if you weren't so completely rubbish with a hoe, you'd not be here with me."

Lawrence had agreed wholeheartedly, but had carefully not said a thing or moved a muscle at the time.

"Some are lucky and get rich quick. Others... they spend years and years floating around, trying to scrape together enough coin to cash out. But through a lack of skill, or an abundance of ineptitude... even plain old bad luck, they just can't seem to make it.

"Eventually, it wears them away. They keep doing it because it's what they've done for as long as they can remember. It's _all_ they know how to do. They stop living, and settle for just _existing._ "

His master had stared down at his mug for a long moment after that. Then he looked up and turned a sad, serious look on Lawrence.

"Don't give up, Lawrence. _Never_ give up, no matter what. You might never be able to come back if you do."

Lawrence sighed again, staring up at the bottom of Holo's bed. He hadn't realised until much later that his master never settled down anywhere. Lawrence ended up receiving his assets when he disappeared, so presumably there was no family hiding away anywhere.

It was a horrible thought that had kept him up on more than one night.

He decided to try the far wall again and rolled back to the side.

Was that where he was now? So far past despair and hopelessness that he was just a walking corpse, doomed to ply the roads forever more?

He didn't _feel_ like an undead.

...

But would he really _know_ if he was?

...

No, that was _silly_. Besides, he still had Holo with him. That counted for a _lot_. And he had a way out, now.

... wait, was _that_ what was bothering him?

His "way out" was gold smuggling. In the morning, he would set out to very clearly and very _flagrantly_ break the law _and_ disgrace the church.

He pondered this in the pitch black silence.

Did thieves have this same feeling? Lying in bed one night, thinking over their lives, and then suddenly realising "wait, I'm a _criminal!_ How did _that_ happen?!"

Maybe they started stealing to feed their children. Maybe they needed money. Maybe it was the only choice before them. Did they see it as wrong at the time? Probably not.

Was _that_ how easy it was? He'd been _one_ mistake away from becoming a gold smuggler. How far was _anyone_ from a life of crime at any given moment?

Certainly, his greed and hubris had _helped_ his downfall along, but even if he'd been more conservative... he'd wanted to pick up a new load, and without knowing about the cancellation of the northern expedition...

Perhaps this had been inevitable.

There was _another_ nasty thought... whether you wake up smiling or sobbing being down to the whim of god.

And what of the others he was dragging along on this little excursion? Holo could no doubt get herself out of any situation Lawrence might pull her into, but what of Nora? How would the church treat someone who not only smuggled gold, but was probably suspected of being a witch?

And what of the others he would—

"Would you go to sleep, already? Your incessant worrying is taxing my patience!"

He rolled on to his back. "H— Holo? But, I wasn't even making a—"

"You are fretting so much that you woke me up!"

He stared at the wooden slats holding up her mattress. "But—"

"You cannot afford to be exhausted tomorrow. Leave obsessing over the rightness of your actions until you are no longer in danger of your life!"

He frowned. "How could you _possibly_ know that—"

He heard her sniff. Then came the sound of rustling cloth, and a dim wolf-eared silhouette appeared, leaning down from the bunk. "I am Holo the Wise Wolf, and because you are _you_ and _you_ would be worried of naught else! If it is of any consolation, remember that the rules you intend to break matter to only _two_."

"Oh?"

"To the greedy men who continue to mistreat that poor, defenseless shepherd girl you are so fond of, _and you._ You could _hardly_ pick more deserving victims."

"That's not a very—"

" _Whatever else_ ," she said, cutting him off, "survival comes first. None can blame you for that. 'Tis something only _humans_ appear to have difficulty with."

With that, she slipped back into her own bed, followed by the sound of someone fastidiously rearranging their bedding. "Now _sleep_."

He sighed again. She was probably right.

Philosophical debates about morality were an expensive distraction for someone looking at the prospect of a short, painful life.

He closed his eyes, took a slow breath, and tried the technique of last resort in the trader's book for trying to get to sleep: counting coins. In increasing order of current market value.

As he slowly made his way through the panoply of virtually worthless copper coins, he wondered what Holo thought about on a night like this one.

* * *

At last, he was going to sleep. His shifting and incessant _wakefulness_ had been bothering her. He would need his wits about him.

She snuggled into the mattress, and pulled her tail closer.

Soon, this little episode would be behind them. _She_ would see them past any threats, and _he_ would ensure those grimy traders were kept in check. A few days hence, they would return to the city, his salvation in hand. Hundreds of coins worth of shiny rocks.

She shifted her position to a more comfortable one.

Shiny rocks in the bellies of those dim-witted sheep.

Those dim-witted sheep that would be taken _straight_ to the butcher's and turned into mutton.

And for that, she had plans of her own.

She licked her lips.


	13. S1E12: Wolf and Flaws

Lawrence squinted his eyes, trying to focus more clearly. He _thought_ he could tell what it was in the distance... this far away, with this light, he couldn't be sure, but...

"An hicesias copper coin, from the original striking pattern."

Holo coughed beside him. "In truth I am uncertain of what I expected from you, but I did not believe it would be this."

"What?" he responded a little peevishly. "It's round, flattish, and it looks a little like it has a face."

" _Truly_ your imagination is a thing of _wonderment._ "

" _You're_ the one who wanted something to do while we wait for Liebert. For that matter, I suppose _you_ look at it and see a hot bun or a pie or something?"

Holo frowned. "I think of things other than food!" she snapped.

"Only _right_ after you've been fed," he quipped with a grin.

"I shall have you know that—"

"I think it looks more like Harold." Nora interjected, staring up at the sky. "But then, _most_ clouds tend to look like sheep to me."

Holo, paused mid tirade and shifted effortlessly from aggrieved to curious. "Oh-ho? And who might this 'Harold' be?" Holo inquired.

"Oh, he was a _very_ naughty sheep," Nora said, crossing her arms and nodding sagely, as if this explained matters. Lawrence did not entirely manage to suppress his chuckle.

"Do you... often name your charges?"

"No. Harold was different, though. I don't think I've ever known such a _difficult_ sheep."

"How is a sheep _difficult?_ " Lawrence asked, trying to picture this creature.

"In _every_ way imaginable. He was _constantly_ wandering away from the flock. If he hadn't been a sheep, I _might_ have suspected he was deliberately hiding from me. He'd root through my things, chewing on anything that looked chewable. _Once_ , he tried to eat my hair!

"He could also be _very_ stubborn. Sometimes, he would ignore Enek, no matter how much he barked. His favourite way to be obstinate was to just lie down and pretend to sleep right when we needed to get moving." Enek looked up from her side at the sound of his name, looked over to where the flock was grazing nearby, then went back to napping.

"A few times, Enek had to resort to nipping at his legs to get Harold to move." Nora shook her head sadly. "He was so _uncooperative._ Sometimes, I wonder if he didn't know what was in store for him and just wanted to cause trouble... though I suppose I can't blame him for that."

"Why Harold, though? It doesn't seem like a very _sheepy_ name."

Nora looked uncomfortable. "That's because, uh..." She gave a nervous cough. "He reminded me of a boy I once knew who _never_ seemed to do what he was told."

Lawrence decided not to pry any further. If the slight blushing was anything to go by, the story could be a complicated one.

" _Oh?_ Do, tell us more! Was this boy _handsome?_ " Lawrence sighed, flopped back on to the grass and rubbed his forehead.

"What? No! I mean, it wasn't like that! Nothing of the sort!" Nora had her hands raised up, trying to fend off Holo's interrogation.

"Oh," Holo replied, sounding disappointed. "Well, if you say so."

"Really!" Nora insisted, even as Holo turned back to look at the sky. "He was always causing trouble for the other children and even the priest."

"Hmm..." Holo murmured, pondering the puffy white clouds slowly drifting overhead. The grass they were lying on darkened slightly.

"He always _did_ seem to cause _me_ more trouble than anyone else, and some of the other kids teased me about it, but that never really made any—"

"A polished opal."

Lawrence blinked and looked at her.

"—I'm sorry?" Nora sounded confused as well.

Holo raised a finger and pointed at the sky. Lawrence and Nora both followed it to the oval-shaped cloud. It was just passing in front of the sun. The little cloud was, as it happened, quite thin in places. It caused the sun's light to burst through here and there, making the cloud shimmer and dazzle brightly as it moved.

He had to admit, it didn't really look like a coin any more.

"What's an opal?" Nora asked.

"A kind of stone," Holo replied. "They can be light or dark, but all shine brilliantly with every colour of the world. Like a thousand tiny flecks glistening on a river bed" Her expression became tinged with... sadness, or wistfulness, perhaps... "They remind me of my home."

Lawrence looked away.

"Ah, are you from far away, Holo?"

Holo smiled. "Yes. Far to the north of here, from a town called Yoitsu. 'Tis why we travel, in fact; I am returning there after a long journey." Lawrence decided to try and stay out of the conversation.

"I've never heard of it. I'm afraid I don't know much about the world beyond this area. Are there a lot of opals there?"

"No. I do not believe I ever saw a one there. In truth, it is not the town or the land it puts me in mind of; it is the _sky_."

"The... sky?" ... of course, he could still _listen_ safely.

Holo nodded. "Indeed. On some nights, in the depths of winter, when the moon did not shine, the sky would come alight with vibrant, shifting colours, cavorting above the mountains and the clouds both.

"People believe they are the ghosts of their departed loved ones, dancing for those left behind, reminding them to live, not grieve. Others thought them the spirits of old, returning to cast their eyes over the world and ensure all is in order. Or perhaps it was the road by which the departed leave this world for the next.

"One _very_ old story says that it is the breath of dragons, freezing high in the sky to rain back down, a lonely call to the others of their kind that might yet live."

Nora stared at Holo, captivated. "Which is it?"

"Hmm?"

"Who is right?"

Holo laid back down on the grass and grinned. "Who can say? Perhaps it is none of those things."

Nora looked down at her hands. Then, she smiled. "Your home sounds like a beautiful place."

"Aye." Holo closed her eyes. "I shall be well pleased to look upon it once again."

Nora laid back, herself. "I don't remember where I was born, or what my parents were like. I've always felt a little... unmoored from the world. Not that I don't belong, more that... I don't belong anywhere in _particular_ , like most people do. Perhaps that's why being a shepherd has never really bothered me.

"Still, a part of me envies people with a home, a past... roots."

Holo was silent for a moment. "Many are given a home at birth, 'tis true. But most will never stray far from whence they come. Their home is their home; why should they ever leave it? And yet, so often they look upon those who wander with jealousy.

"To have a home is to have a safe place to return to. To have a home is to have a lodestone tied about your neck.

"To have no home is to be free. To have no home is to be alone.

"Still; those with a home may leave it, and those without may make one."

Nora lay there quietly for several long moments. "I suppose so," she said quietly, then turned over and, holding Enek, seemed to drift off to sleep.

Lawrence remained staring at the edge of the forest in the distance, his own eyes beginning to feel heavy.

"She is asleep, so you may voice your complaints, now." She didn't sound annoyed, at least. He yawned.

"You can neither travel nor build without money. The very young, the old, those with children... there are plenty for whom upending their life is not so easy."

"Aye," Holo admitted. "But then, not all stories are meant to be true, or even to make sense."

"... Then why tell them?"

"Because words have power, and never can you know which words someone has need of. Even the wisest cannot know _that_.

"One can only hope that even a single word falls where it must, to plant a seed of thought."

Lawrence huffed lightly, not really knowing what to say to that.

Sometimes, _rarely_... she really _did_ seem hundreds of years old.

Would _he_ ever be like that, even in his final days?

"If only you would but listen to me, even a little..." she gave a heavy sigh. "Then, perhaps, you might improve as a male."

Then the wind would change direction, and she would be her usual, biting self again. Something stirred in the back of his mind.

"You know, I was told something about opals, once."

"Their worth in gold?"

"No. A man who dealt in gems told me that the reason gems sparkle is because they are imperfect."

"Oh-ho?"

"Indeed. Without those imperfections, he said, they would be dull and lifeless; entirely transparent. A sapphire is as hard with or without them, but they are only so beautiful because they are flawed.

"Opals were his favourite, because whilst other gems would play with light, opals would play with colour. An ever shifting sight, different from every angle."

He heard a quiet chuckle coming from Holo. "Are you perhaps trying to say something?" He rolled over to look at her; she had that nasty grin on her face again. "A point, perchance, about yourself?"

Lawrence smiled. Whether or not she'd knowingly left herself open, he knew better than to waste the opportunity. "No.

"Actually, I was rather thinking about you."

With that, he rolled back over and closed his eyes. Holo said nothing. In fact, for quite some time, there was no sound at all, beyond the soft rustling of the grass in the breeze.

And then, he heard it. A sound he was coming to know, distinct from the waving of the grass.

The sound of rhythmic swishing. Back and forth.

He smiled and began to doze off.


	14. S1E13: Wolf and Dreams

Into the forest. Trees cutting his swelling face. Faster. Run faster! They're right behind! They don't want food; they want _blood_. They're gaining!

A snap. A thud. A cry. Someone has fallen. Don't look back, don't look back...

She has a name. _Has_ a name. She can't see it. The roiling darkness coming to consume her.

Run, just run. Can't save her. Save yourself. _Save yourself!_

_NO!_ He _can't_ run. Can't abandon her. It's his fault. _His fault._

Can't move. It's coming closer. He can't fight it. Too weak.

Too small.

Closing in from all sides.

Calling for him. All with his own voice.

_I don't want to die here!_

Hot breath.

A low growl.

Turn around. Every hair, every nerve, _screaming._

The wolf is immense, it's jaws open, glistening with saliva.

A puff of hot breath.

Old eyes. _Familiar_ eyes.

_Red eyes._

But in them... deep down... grey reflects back.

"You are _terribly_ good-natured. "

It leans forward, ready to kill...

...no. That's wrong.

He reaches up, touching her muzzle.

"Again, you are an _idiot._ "

Yes, I am. She lays down. I climb up. Her fur is warm. Her scent familiar. Comforting.

The shadows bristle. Fangs and claws and spears and contracts. She howls. Snaps her teeth.

They shrink away.

The girl, flees, escaping.

"Leave it to me."

Suddenly, they are running. Flying through the trees. The forest passes in a blur. _Nothing_ can touch them. He holds tighter.

Ahead, a break in the trees.

It swallows them.

Light. The sun rising. Endless blue sky above. Rolling fields of gold below. Shimmering, waving in the wind.

The mountains in the distance. So far.

He can almost touch them now.

He reached out.

* * *

The cubs played in the fields. Running, tumbling, nipping, barking.

She would chase them, join in their games.

But they would grow, and leave. She could not.

Fewer and fewer would come.

Soon the fields would be empty.

How long since she had played with her pack?

Memory stretched back, a yawning abyss. She could barely make out the other side. Faint, half-remembered faces stared back.

She ached for home. For a pack. To be young again. To play. To run. To laugh.

She ached.

A new pup. It barked at her. Nipped at her. _Insolence!_

She nipped back, and its' tail wagged.

It was leaving, heading north. Toward home.

_Home._

She followed.

It ignored her, strutted about, head held high. She chased it, butted it.

It yowled. It curled up beside her.

She was happy.

Together, they walked. They fought. They played. Laughed, cried, hunted, ate, drank.

A pack. Her and her foolish cub.

No. Not a cub. No longer. Had it grown, or had she been wrong?

Both. He was smaller and weaker, and _so_ much younger. Yet he lashed out at those who tried to harm them. He fought for his share of the meal. He defended her, and he leant on her.

The world was cold and cruel. The innocent were cut down, the poor went hungry. Cubs, abandoned and alone on the plains.

This half-cub knew it, too. He had not _accepted_ it. He fought it, lamented it. He was generous with both mercy and wrath. The little seed had not withered in him.

So naive. So foolish. _So precious._

She wanted to protect him. He needed her. He would be _devoured_ without her.

As long as he needed her, how far would they go?

To home.

* * *

Lawrence yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up. Even having gone to bed early the night before, the sun was not quite up yet; a faint light could be seen sneaking through the gaps in the shutters.

Even through the vague weariness, he felt... happy. He shook his head; of _course_ he did. The plan had worked. He was no longer in danger of spending his final days rowing or mining. He was a free man again, thanks to Holo.

He got up and opened the window. The sky was just beginning to glow with the approach of the sunrise.

"Is it morning, then?" came a muffled voice from behind him.

"Just about," he replied. "How did you sleep?"

There was a rustling. "Well enough, I suppose." She didn't sound very sure. "I am perhaps still a little tired."

"Well, you certainly had a hard night before last."

" _And_ the morning after," she added. "'Twas exhausting having to yell at you so much."

He smiled. "Only because you seem to have trouble hearing me when I'm speaking."

Holo slipped down from her bunk. "If that is true, 'tis only because so much of what you say is foolish!" She was smiling, too.

"Just because you think someone is a fool doesn't mean you're right. You might simply lack an _understanding_ of what they're saying."

Holo beamed. "A true and _wise_ statement!" Lawrence nodded. "'Twould seem I am rubbing off on you!

"Even so, 'tis _so little_ ; you should strive harder to understand my words." She shook her head in disappointment.

He wanted to retort, but nothing came to mind. It was too early for him. Beaten, he raised his hands in surrender, and sat down on the chair. Holo gave a single, curt nod, and settled down on his bunk.

"So, what are we to do today?"

Lawrence leaned back in the chair and scratched under his jaw. "I should go see Jakob and make sure no new burs have appeared during the night."

"Are you _expecting_ any such problems?"

"No; I just don't want any more surprises for the time being. I should also see about moving some cash around."

"Oh? Are you getting your one hundred and thirty lumione coins?" An idea seemed to occur to her. "Will you be carrying them about in a gilded box now?"

"Not unless I want to be robbed before taking five steps on the street, no. And besides, it's not 130."

Holo tilted her head at him.

"Firstly, I gave twenty lumione back to Jakob by way of apology for the mess I caused." Holo looked surprised. "It's really not that much to return to the good graces of my guild. I don't want anyone to think the matter hasn't been completely settled.

"Then there's the ten lumione I paid to the butcher for—"

"Ten gold coins for butchering some sheep? Truly, he must be the richest butcher in the city!"

"It's not impossible. He's also the one person involved who could easily bring it all crashing down on our heads with little risk to himself. Again, it's a matter of surety. So that's thirty accounted for.

"There's Nora's share of twenty lumione, which possibly makes her the richest _shepherd_ in the city. Also, I can't forget the three and two-sevenths lumione I borrowed. I want to go and repay _those_ debts today. With some generous interest, too." He grasped his chin and stared up at nothing in particular. "It would be nice to have everyone who turned me down regret that decision."

Holo gave a bark of laughter. "Why, I was beginning to wonder whether you had done away with that vindictiveness of yours."

" _Am_ I being vindictive?"

She shrugged. "Not unduly so. You counted them among your friends, and yet they abandoned you with hardly a thought."

"Well, I wouldn't call them friends. _Acquaintances,_ perhaps."

"How much will repaying your _acquaintances_ leave you with?"

He pondered this. "Assuming some suitably magnanimous interest... about fifty lumione or so. Some of that, I will leave with the guild."

"Leave it here?"

"One of the services the guild provides is safe deposit of cash. Money I deposit at one branch can be withdrawn from another, given a little time. It saves me having to cart around that much _actual_ gold, and running the risk of being robbed.

"Every lumione I can put away now gets me that much closer to owning my own shop. Most of what I made in Pazzio vanished because of my greed; I don't want to make that same mistake again. I'll keep just enough for our expenses and to buy a new load of goods.

"Maybe something a bit _safer_ this time. Like wheat."

Holo sniffed at this with what might have been disapproval. It was perhaps _overly_ cautious, but he'd feel better for it. "Well, so long as we can continue north, I shall not mind.

"And after that, then what?"

He'd been thinking about that last night. He never _had_ been able to find her honey-preserved peaches... "I'd like to organise a feast for dinner to celebrate."

Holo's ears flicked and she sat bolt upright. "A feast?"

Lawrence smiled and gave her a nod. "I think it's appropriate. At least this time I'm not dead-tired and injured."

At that, Holo stood, walked over to him and gently poked his left cheek, a serious expression on her face.

He gave a forced cough. "Such a _tiny_ scratch is of little concern."

Holo's smile returned as the sun's light finally reached over the walls and buildings of Ruvinheigen, flooding the room. Standing between him and the window, she seemed to be suffused with an otherworldly glow.

He could almost suspect her of doing that deliberately. _Almost_. It didn't really matter either way... the view was _spectacular_.

_Still_ , he couldn't sit around _all_ day. He stood.

"And until then, what shall we do?" Her ears were up, her tail wagging behind her.

He thought a moment.

"How about we just walk around the city?"

She nodded her approval, and they stepped out together.


	15. S2E00: Wolf and Warmth

It had been two days now since the sun had shown itself. The blasted thing just _refused_ to come out from behind the clouds and make the earth a little less cold. It was winter now, but even so, he was never really mentally prepared for that first, sudden drop in temperature.

It always seemed to sour his mood. "I _hate_ the cold," he mumbled to himself.

It didn't help that a certain wolf was currently laying curled up on his cargo, wrapped in a blanket. He had a blanket over his legs, too, but they were cold in spite of it. He also didn't have the benefit of a warm, fur coat. Well, in one place, at any rate.

He glanced back over his shoulder. She was fastidiously nibbling on the end of her tail.

Holo's eyes glanced up at him from behind her bushy tail, then back down again. "'Tis a mystery, you know."

"What's that?"

"How humans survive without tails."

He was _almost_ tempted to say what he'd been thinking. But that would mean letting Holo win without a fight. "I'm not sure I'd be comfortable with something sticking out from my behind. I imagine it would get in the way quite a bit." He hoped she wouldn't ask for specifics.

"You say that only because you are not accustomed to its presence," came the rejoinder, accompanied by more meticulous grooming. "A tail helps keep you warm when it is cold, protects your nose from the wind, and gives one an unmatched sense of balance. It is useful for communication, as well.

"Surely even _you_ can see there are no drawbacks to having one!" Apparently finished, she curled up around her tail and pulled the blanket up to her neck. She looked positively _toasty_.

"Well, if _I_ had been born with a tail, I'd probably have been handed over to the church and burned, or perhaps abandoned in a ditch somewhere." A tail wasn't even necessary for that second one, he mused, darkly.

"Only because for a _single_ human to have a tail would be frightening; obviously I speak as though _all_ humans had them." She wriggled, trying to settle into a comfortable position.

"Well, we seem to have done fine without them," he retorted dismissively.

"You would be better hunters if you had them."

"Ah, but we don't _need_ tails when we have bows and spears... Come to think of it, that's something humans can do that no animal can: make things." Ha! He had her now!

"Wolves make things!" she replied, somewhat indignantly.

"Like what?"

"A mother wolf will make a den to keep her cubs safe and warm."

Lawrence had to concede that. "Very well, but what else?"

Holo had to consider this. "We make marks to warn others away."

He smiled to himself. "And what _else_?"

Holo frowned. Then, she sighed. "Oh, very well, _do_ go on." He could all but hear her roll her eyes.

Lawrence coughed. "Humans _also_ build shelters. We dig hollows, tie branches together, build shacks, verandas, houses, inns, mansions, castles, towers... warehouses, inns, halls... uhh... mills, longhalls... cellars..."

"Yes, yes, you humans build _many_ kinds of shelters; I know this well."

"But we also make signs and lamps, statues, roads, carts, weapons, tools, crates, barrels, and bags, barrows, ladders... _clothes_... oh! And we invented trade, and money; contracts and shipping and—"

"Enough! What you humans have invented is a _needlessly_ complicated world for yourselves!"

"We _may not have tails_ , but we have _plenty_ of other things," he decreed, bringing his pontification to an end.

"Only because you are in _need_ of them... well, even _that_ is debatable."

"What do you mean?"

"Take clothes, for example. You wear them because without, you would freeze. You spend your precious money buying and mending them." He felt this was just _slightly_ hypocritical. "Some spend much to _constantly_ change what clothes they wear.

"And yet, other animals have no need for such. We are born with our coats, and they keep us warm and protected."

He decided _not_ to bring up the fact that humans could wear said coats, too... once they'd been removed from their original owners, of course. "Fur doesn't help much against swords," he offered instead.

"True, but if you did not have swords, you would not need armour. Or perhaps, if you did not have armour, you would not need swords." Holo paused. "Do you ever wonder if perhaps all these wonderful things you humans can make are the _reason_ you need them?"

Wait, "... what?"

"Imagine that, perhaps, long ago, humans were like other animals. A thick hide, covered in fur. And then, some clever human invented shoes. Of course, _all_ would wish to wear them to protect their feet.

"But then, your feet would no longer need to be so thick, and so, they became thin and sensitive.

"And _oh_ so _very_ ticklish."

Lawrence frowned at her. "You promised you wouldn't bring that up again."

Holo grinned nastily. "Oh, but of _course_. That aside, my point stands thus: what if, over the long eons, humans have come to _depend_ on their clever little things, where others simply need be born with all they require?

"Would that not make humans the weak, foolish creatures, endlessly making their own lives harder and harder?"

He felt like this argument was becoming increasingly philosophical... he wracked his brain for a way out. "Not at all! It shows that we can overcome our limitations and become stronger!"

"But if those limitations are the result of poor past decisions, is your ingenuity _truly_ so laudable? Wolves lead simpler lives, without having to worry about money and clothes... _and debts._ "

Holo _did_ like to play dirty. However, Lawrence had thought of an avenue of attack. "They also live without houses, hot food, walls.

"And _spit-roast piglets with gravy and potatoes._ "

Holo went _very_ quiet.

"'Tis the very _height_ of cruelty to raise such a thought when you are to make me eat bread and gruel."

"Admit that humans are cleverer than animals and I'll break out an extra piece of salted mutton."

Holo narrowed her eyes. "I shall admit that humans are not _entirely_ without merit if _you_ admit that humans are flawed and silly. _And_ if you give me some meat."

"Well—"

"Now _and_ at supper."

He half-turned to eye her suspiciously. He was a merchant; he couldn't bear to be beaten at haggling.

"You can have _one_ piece, now or later."

Holo considered this. "And...?"

He smiled. If you want a good deal _and_ to get in the other person's good books: haggle down, then over-pay. "I truly _envy_ you your tail in this cold."

Holo disappeared under the canvas in a blur. A few moments later she re-emerged, a piece of mutton hanging out of her mouth. She climbed on to the bench, and slipped herself under his blanket.

"Well, are you going to admit that—" he stopped as he felt her tail slide across his lap. It was _warm._

"If you wish... but if I do, I shall remove my tail." She grinned at him. That really was _completely_ unfair.

Dignity _demanded_ that he suffer for the pride of the human race.

His cold legs demanded something else entirely. His legs _also_ had the distinct advantage of not being an abstract concept, as well as being attached to him.

"Tail it is."

Holo beamed and settled herself at his side, chewing on her piece of meat. "A wise choice; words will hardly keep you warm _at all._ "

He sighed. "Wolf fur certainly seems to do a much better job."

She nodded in agreement. "Still... I look forward to the next town," she said, looking down the road. "With a warm inn and hot food, made by humans."

He smiled. That was probably as good as he was going to get.

The scenery rolled on.

"I am rather fond of it, myself."

"Of what? Hot food?"

"The cold." Lawrence glanced down.

"At times, at any rate. It brings memories of long ago. When it was cold, the pack would huddle together, safe and warm. It is comforting, to be surrounded by your packmates in the cold of winter, to feel so warm."

He'd never really been the most sociable person, even as a youth. Even so, he knew loneliness. He couldn't _begin_ to imagine what it must be like for someone like Holo to spend hundreds of years separated from her kind.

He took one hand from the reigns, reached over, and pulled Holo against his side. In this cold, he couldn't help but be reminded of how _warm_ she was as she snuggled against him. A distinctive, slightly sweet scent filled the air. "Yes; 'twas like this."

Winter seemed to recede a little.

They continued down the road.


	16. S2E01: Wolf and Tale

As Lawrence opened the door, the smell of alcohol hit him like a slap to the face. Actually, it hit him in the face _exactly_ like that barmaid did that one time that he'd—

He shook his head.

He could only hope that his own breath hadn't been this bad when he'd dealt with Mark. Luckily for him, it was _likely_ the cause of a certain wolf that had discovered a deep and abiding affection for the local fire wine the night before.

She was still asleep. The bucket beside her bed was _blessedly_ empty, as was the pitcher of water. Her face did not look _quite_ as haggard as it had when he'd left.

"How are you feeling?" Her tail fidgeted ever so slightly.

"Hmmnmmr."

"I see." He went over to his bed and sat on the edge. Then, he took the bag he was carrying and opened the top. If he was right, it should only be a matter of time...

It was almost two minutes before he heard a faint sniffing, and Holo's tail began to twitch. "Hhh... mmn uhh..." She slowly pushed herself up... then gave up, flopped back down and rolled slightly to look at him. "Wah ah..."

"Good morning," he said courteously, with a nod of his head.

She blinked blearily at him. "I am hungry."

He smiled. "I had a feeling you might say that." He got up and showed her the contents of the bag. She quickly pushed herself up and grabbed it, pulling a warm loaf of soft wheat bread out and biting into it.

Before she could devour the entire bag, he reached in and picked out one for himself. Next time, he really should eat his share _before_ she got her hands on it.

He took a bite, breaking through the hard crust and into the soft, fluffy white interior. A quick glance showed Holo also apparently enjoying the treat. It _certainly_ beat hard oat and rye.

"So," he began between more bites, "how are you feeling?"

Holo paused in her feasting to give him a pained, sickly expression... before shoving a third of a loaf into her gaping maw. "Iww," she replied around the mouthful. "My heap hurff." She swallowed, then collapsed back to the bed. "Urrrghhh... 'tis been too long since last I had such strong spirits..."

"I must admit, I'm impressed you're as lucid as you _are_. I don't think I've ever _seen_ anyone drink that much fire wine and still be standing." He thought back. "Mostly standing."

"Ssshut up."

He grinned and went to sit at the desk. Now would be a good opportunity to update his journal. At least Holo would be quiet for a whil—

"Tell me a story."

He shouldn't have thought it. Really, it was his fault for tempting fate. "A story? I wasn't aware I was travelling with a child. Besides, I thought your head hurt."

"You left me here alone." She rustled under the sheet. "You may tell me a story to make up for it."

It was such an odd request, and absolutely nothing came to mind. "I don't really _know_ any stories."

He could hear a grumble coming from behind him. "Perhaps if there were some _sheep_ about."

What was _that_ supposed to mean? He sighed. Stories, stories... he couldn't _think_ of anything that wasn't _really_ more of an anecdote. He supposed there were a _few_ tales that he could think of, but they were all just banal, everyday happenings that had no point and mostly boiled down to people talking.

He couldn't imagine _anyone_ wanting to hear such pointless drivel.

What kind of story would a _wolf_ even be interested in?

...

No... _no_ , that would be _stupid_. He couldn't possi—

"Well? I am still lying here, _suffering._ Can you not grant even this simple request?" She coughed feebly.

Well, now it would be _her_ fault. He tried to remember how he'd heard it told...

"In a village far from here, there lived a shepherd boy."

"I do not like this story."

He sighed. " _There lived a shepherd boy._

"Each day would he arise and tend to his flock in the meadows behind the hill, hidden from sight of the village."

Holo buried herself into the pillow.

"The long days he spent in the meadows drove him to boredom, and so, he decided to make sport of the villagers.

"Upon one morn, he came running unto the blacksmith. 'Hark!' he cried. 'Wolves are come and are eating the sheep! Come quick!'"

Holo's ears twitched.

"The blacksmith took up his hammer and ran to the meadow, but there were no wolves. 'Curse you, boy!' bellowed the blacksmith. He returned to his forge and the boy laughed merrily.

"On the next day, the boy came running unto the butcher. 'Hark!' he cried. 'Wolves are come and are eating the sheep! Please help!'

"The butcher took up his cleaver and ran to the meadow, but there were no wolves. 'Damn you, boy!' bleated the butcher. He returned to his block and the boy rolled about the grass in mirth."

Holo was now looking at him with the sharp grin of someone who's worked out the punchline to a joke.

"The third day dawned, and the boy came running unto the hunter. 'Hark!' he cried. 'Wolves are come and are eating the sheep! Save them!'

"But the hunter did not move. 'Get gone from my sight, boy, I know there are no wolves!'

"So the boy ran to the butcher. 'Hark!' he cried. 'In truth, wolves are come! The hunter will not help, please come!' But the butcher said 'take yourself away, I shall not believe your lies!'

"So the boy ran to the blacksmith. 'Please!' he begged. 'Wolves are eating the sheep. I swear I do not lie to you! I cannot drive them off alone, you must help me!' But the blacksmith said 'I _must_ do nothing. Begone!'

"With no one left to turn to, the boy ran over the hill and back to the meadow. The village was quiet.

"And then, the villagers heard the howling. The blacksmith, the butcher, and the hunter ran over the hill. When they reached the top, they could find no sheep. Nor could they find the shepherd boy...

"...save for his _bones._ "

He waited for Holo's reaction.

She yawned. "This story has _many_ holes in it."

Lawrence frowned. "Such as?"

"Wolves would have howled when they attacked, in order to drive the sheep. The villagers would have heard it easily and known the boy spoke the truth."

"Well, perhaps they howled... quietly."

"Furthermore, it seems ridiculous that there would be _only_ three men in a village large enough to warrant a butcher and blacksmith."

"I don't think the village's _demographics_ were really the point."

"Finally, no wolf could strip a human child to the bone so quickly."

"Now you're just nit-picking."

"A story should _at least_ be consistent in and of itself."

Lawrence narrowed his eyes. "Wait a moment; didn't you once tell me that stories didn't _have_ to make sense?"

Holo was silent. "I do not recall saying such."

"You _did._ "

She thought about this. "Ah. Oh well." She laid back down on the pillow. "I suppose 'twas at least pleasing to hear of a shepherd coming to such a grisly end."

"I thought you might appreciate that part."

"In the telling I recall, the boy survived and was excoriated for his foolishness."

Lawrence blinked. "Eks... what?"

"Berated."

"Ah, so you've heard it before."

"Indeed. I, myself, always preferred the one about the wolf that stole the identity of a little girl's grandmother and proceeded to eat her whole."

Lawrence leaned back in his chair. "Wasn't the wolf hacked to bits by a lumberjack? I thought you'd hate that one."

"Not as I heard it. In truth, I only like it because 'tis so very _silly_. A wolf would not _bother_ with such a deception. A wolf would simply _ambush_ the girl in the forest and eat her there."

Lawrence had to admit that was a good point. A moralising story lost some of its edge when it described a patently impossible situation.

"Do they still tell the tale of the two children who murder an old woman in a house made of bread?"

He blinked. Twice. "No, I don't think I've heard _that_ one."

"A pity. Surely there must be some new stories which I am yet to hear."

Sighing, he mentally flipped through some of the others he'd heard, but they were all old, common ones... and then he remembered a story he'd once been told by a half-drunk nobleman a long time ago... If he remembered correctly, it had been a more modern play or some such, so there was a good chance Holo hadn't heard it.

"How about this one: there was a queen of a far-away kingdom who was lonely. She meets a hero from another land, and they agree to marry, mostly for political reasons.

"Soon, they begin to truly fall in love with one another. However, there is an evil witch who seeks to destroy the queen's kingdom. She disguises one of her thralls as a god and uses him to trick the hero into believing he has been commanded to leave for war."

Lawrence tried to remember how the rest went... he'd been rather drunk at the time, too. "He agrees to go, and leaves his wife behind, each believing the other no longer truly loves them. But before he can board the ship, he realises that his love for her means more than anything, and he races back to the palace.

"However, once there, the queen rejects him, telling him that she cannot forgive him for choosing to abandon her, even for a moment. He pleads with her to hear him out, but his apparent betrayal cut her too deeply. She sends him away and, once gone, commits suicide out of despair."

That _sounded_ about right. "What about _that_ one?" He looked over his shoulder to find Holo standing _right_ behind him. He jumped in his seat. "I wish you'd stop doing that."

"What a foolish woman," Holo opined. "To send him away and then take her own life? What a ridiculous notion." She turned her back to him.

Lawrence shrugged. "Love can make people do strange, foolish things."

For a time, Holo did not reply. When she did, her voice was quiet and oddly distant.

"Aye. 'Tis what makes it so frightening, and so very dangerous."

He meant to ask her what she meant by that, but she was already walking toward the bed. "I am feeling better now, though I wish to wash my face." She took her cloak and made her way out. Just before opening the door, however, she stopped and spoke without facing him.

"In reality, such stories are _far_ simpler. One need not scheming or wars for tragedy.

"Life supplies as much in abundance."

She walked out, closing the door behind her.

Lawrence sat there for what felt to him like an hour. He wondered if he hadn't accidentally hit too close to home for her.

At the sound of Holo returning, he got up. He needed a drink. Holo could probably do with one too.


	17. S2E02: Wolf and Cage

"... left for the north, her companion in tow," Lawrence finally concluded. He'd had to think on his feet, changing names and events to ensure his audience didn't connect the story to himself or Holo, but he felt he'd done a reasonable job.

" _Fascinating,_ " was the response Diana gave, leaning forward, her chin resting on a pale hand.

"Indeed!" enthused Gi. "Quite the cunning scheme; using greedy travellers to accumulate the silver coins. Ah, you've got _me_ thinking about currency speculation now!" He chuckled, rubbing his chin.

"Well, I wasn't thinking about _that_ part, myself," continued Diana. "If you ever decide to commit the story to parchment, I'd suggest minimising the currency aspect. I imagine most would find it a bit... dull."

"Like the coins?" Gi ventured.

Diana gave a single chuckle in reply. "Still, a wolf incarnation..." Diana was giving Lawrence a rather _intense_ look that was slowly making him feel like she could read the thoughts on the inside of his head. "Am I right in thinking that you are... chasing the tail of this story back to its roots?"

Oh, so that's what she was wondering. He smiled. "Yes; perhaps it's foolish, but once I heard the story, I just couldn't help myself."

Diana's mouth quirked into a lopsided smile. "I know _that_ tale well. Becoming captivated by a story out of time, drawn to follow it." The smile melted back into a more neutral expression. "Be careful you do not chase it too far." Gi nodded silently in agreement.

"I will keep that in mind. So, did that story satisfy you?"

Diana pondered for a moment. "It did, but if you would be willing," she stood and fetched a large bottle that, once opened, flooded the room with the scent of fine fire wine, "I would _very much_ like to hear more tales of this wolf." She poured a measure into his empty mug and handed it to him. "Surely, if you are following this story's trail, you must have other evidence of its passing? Stories of incarnations are rare, unsullied ones all the more so. To hear even one is a great gift."

"For my part," Gi added, "I've never heard of such things before; I'd like to listen to more."

Provided she _did_ believe that these were all old tales he'd stumbled across, he couldn't see any problem telling her more. If she _didn't_ believe him, he was unlikely to convince her otherwise. Having a fellow guild member with connections like Gi in his debt (even a little) would also be well worth it.

"Very well... let me see..." His first thought was the tale of Holo and St. Ruvinheigen... but Holo had never ventured much in the way of details for that. Perhaps the gold smuggling? No, that was, perhaps, a little _too_ on the nose. It needed to be something about _Holo_ and not merely something she participated in.

It came to him. He carefully thought about how to make the time and place ambiguous, then began...

* * *

The cart rattled over the rough trail. Normally, he would have taken the smoother high road, but there had been a mudslide due to some recent rains, and it had been blocked. As such, they were forced to descend into the valley, through the town at the base of the bowl, then back up again.

It would likely add another day to their journey, though his passenger had been _mostly_ concerned about how the delay would affect her meals.

The first sign that something was amiss was how she would suddenly sit up, her head turning to look down into the valley, a confused look on her face. Then, she would settle back down without saying a word. As they went deeper into the valley, it became more frequent. Eventually, he felt compelled to say something.

"Inti, is something the matter?"

She was staring off into the valley. "No." The cart rattled on. "Perhaps. I am uncertain."

"Should I be concerned?"

Another pause. "I do not believe so. At least, not for the moment."

He frowned. "What, exactly, is it you are worried about?"

She sighed. "I do not _know._ Cease your fretting. If anything happens, I shall ensure your safety." At this, she turned to sit with her back against his side. He sighed and continued onward.

As a merchant, the village of Hirschdorf was not much to speak of. The valley was renowned for its plentiful rainfall, which came despite the location, so the major crop was rice, grown in large paddies that were cut in banks into the steep slopes. They also exported a fair amount of good, hard wood from their forests.

This was all of little interest to Thomas, as all the rights to their crops were likely locked down more tightly than if the contracts had been chiselled into the mountainside. It was also off the main road, so the villagers would not have much in the way of goods prepared.

It was not yet midday, so they _could_ continue on their way... but the road had been rough, and he felt the both of them would benefit from a rest. He was grateful that there was an inn and a decent-looking tavern.

Bringing the cart to a stop outside the inn, he climbed down to go book them a room. He turned back to Inti. "After we have a room secured, let's go have something to eat." Inti barely seemed to register his words.

The room secured, and the horse in the stables, they set out toward the tavern, Inti seeming restless. Perhaps some thick, hot stew would—

"Thomas, there is somewhere I would like to go."

He blinked. "Uh... well, if you say so, alright. But, where? There isn't much _in_ this village."

Inti answered by way of pointing down to the nearby forest. "That way."

He stared into the trees. "That thing I shouldn't be worried about... it's in there, isn't it?"

"I think it may be. If I am correct... I must know."

Thomas felt the weight of the silver knife at his waist. "Do you know what it is yet?"

Inti began to walk off the road. "Not for a certainty, but, perhaps... _a cage._ " He followed, a sense of ill omen hanging over him.

Inti seemed to know _exactly_ which way to go. As they walked away from the town, the trees grew thicker and closer, towering overhead and blocking out the sky. Soon, he felt like they were in an entirely different world.

For a village that exported lumber, it was strange that all of the trees here seemed to be ancient and yet untouched. There was also something _not right_ about the air. Some strange pressure that he couldn't put to words. He could almost feel eyes watching him from every branch, every knothole. He kept turning around, trying to catch sight of whatever it was that was dogging them.

He felt Inti's hand slip into his own. "Really. Could you not _try_ to act more like a male?" She looked up and smiled at him. "Do you not have faith in me?"

He swallowed. "Of course, it's just that—"

"Then let us continue," she said, pulling him forward. "We are nearly there. It is very close, now."

The pressure seemed to be building still, but the warmth of her hand kept him going. And then, the pressure was gone, and the sun was shining. They had come to a small, grassy clearing, a river quietly babbling as it passed the perimeter.

In the centre of the clearing was an immense boulder. It was oblong; at one end, two lumps either side. At the other, one lump with a matching pair of white, petrified trees sticking up, devoid of leaves. The whole thing was covered in fine scratches that made him think of coarse, stone fur.

Something about it seemed _queer_.

Inti let go of his hand and carefully approached the boulder, gently placing a hand on it.

"What is it?"

"... a shadow."

He looked around. "Of what?"

Inti knelt before the rock. "Like me..."

Thomas looked at the boulder again. The features suddenly snapped into place; the rear legs, the head... the _antlers_. "A deer?"

Inti's head was bowed, and she gave no indication that she was listening to him any more. When she spoke, it was low and quiet.

"He came here so very long ago. He found them, struggling to eke out a meagre living. The forest and soil were old and tired.

"He chose to stay. His home was... gone. He helped them make the lands plentiful, the forests strong. They worshipped him. They named their village for him.

"The years passed, and slowly they forgot him. He became a myth. But he stayed, for where else could he go? And they needed him still, the rain only he could bring."

Thomas carefully approached Inti and knelt beside her. Her hood hung over her face.

"First, he felt tired in his body. Slowly, his body turned to stone. And now... he dreams. He recalls not the world of old."

Thomas gently pulled Inti's hood back. Her face was wet with tears.

"He is fading."

What should he do? What _could_ he do? He put his arm around her shoulders.

Inti stared at the stone in silence, gently stroking the petrified fur. Then, her expression changed. She stood, and walked away from the stone. Thomas stood to follow her, but her look instructed him to stay where he was.

Standing on the grass, she took a long, slow, deep breath, and began to howl.

This was not like the quick, high howl of their first meeting, or the harsh, terrifying howl she had used in the sewers.

It was low and mournful. A wailing song of loss and tragedy. The trees, the ground, the very air seemed to resonate with it. It conjured images of people long since lost to him. Comrades. Friends.

Family.

Inti's howl came to an end, trailing off to a faint trill on the air. She took another slow breath, then signalled for him to follow her. He stood and, giving the stone a curt nod, plunged back into the forest.

He quickly caught up with her, and they made their way back through the densely packed trees. As they walked, he tried to imagine how Inti must be feeling at that moment. To see another incarnation, trapped like she was... "are you alright?"

She slowed and slipped her hands around his arm. "I am grateful to have escaped _mine_. If not, that is how I might have ended. Fading away into nothing. Though, if you had not come and freed me..."

"...you would have found your own way out?"

She leaned against him. "Just so. None the less, I _am_ glad 'twas you."

"Was there no way for him to get out?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I do not think he wished to leave; he had nowhere else to go." They walked on in silence. "Nor did he have a companion."

Thomas looked up as the sun began to once again break through the thick canopy. "Did he ask you to howl?"

Inti nodded. "It had been an age since wolves last sang in his trees. He wished to hear it one last time."

They left the forest, and began the trek back up toward the main road.

"I am sorry, but... I do not think I wish to stay here tonight."

Thomas nodded. If they left now, they would just make it.

* * *

His audience sat quietly. Gi was staring off into space, whilst Diana looked down at her hands.

"This one, too, is new to me," she said eventually. "I thank you for it." It seemed to have hit her quite hard.

Gi coughed to break the tense atmosphere. "Well, that's four stories I've heard, so I suppose it's my turn now. Let me tell you a story about _dragons..._ "


	18. S2E03: Merchant and Despair

What _was_ he?!

A merchant. He was a _merchant._ People complained that merchants knew the cost of everything and the value of nothing, but that was missing the point. That was _their job._ Merchants dealt with shipping networks and supply chains and a complex web of interconnected villages and towns and cities that were constantly pulling and pushing on one another.

Reducing the world and everything in it to a numerical value was the only way to keep from going completely insane.

His master had hammered that into him. Repeatedly, and at great length. How many times? Too many to count.

And he _was_ a merchant. A _good_ merchant. A merchant who would ruthlessly exploit weakness in others, like Latparron. He thought nothing of indebting a traveller. He could even haggle against a desolated man, buying fuel to burn the corpse of his own child.

He _had_ to. Merchants could not survive on the high-mindedness that came so readily to wise men and philosophers. They took the beatings and whippings and doggedly struggled on. A merchant with a soft heart would give away everything in his cart and end his days destitute and ruined.

His master had seemed so _bitter_ when he said that.

He'd done it for Lawrence's sake. The lectures, the berating, the beatings. He had to get it out of Lawrence; that softness.

Why had he taken Holo on...? Because a wolf incarnation could bring him profit? _Lies! What profit? You had no plan! Why?!_

She was a passenger, and nothing more. Another piece of cargo, but one that he'd foolishly taken on without knowing its worth or to whom he would sell it. _Still a soft-hearted fool._ She was his _debtor_. She owed him _money_ , and he had to get that money back. _Again, you lie!_

He'd _found_ a buyer: Amarti. A thousand trenni silver! It was more than _seven times_ what she owed him. _A handsome profit._ He'd get the cash, and wouldn't have to put up with her expensive taste and constant demands for food. _Ha!_ His idiotic investment in her would _finally_ pay off! He could take the money, head back south to warmer climes, and open a shop! He'd have his dream at last! _You fool._

**Why was he so angry?!** No, _upset_. _Empty._ He didn't know what, just... just... _why?!_ This was supposed to be simple. Money, it all came back to money. _Your precious coins._

He was a merchant; saying goodbye was part of that. How many times? How many times had he waved goodbye, promises of another meeting, to never see them again? This shouldn't be any different! _'Do you mean this?'_

He'd enjoyed her company, but their journey was going to end one way or another. What did it matter _when,_ so long as he was paid?

He was a merchant. That's what he is. _All_ that he is. All that he should be, all that he _wants_ to be. All...

_The villagers sharing a meal at the harvest festival._

_Mark flirting with Adele, talking to his friends._

_The revellers dancing and laughing._

All he _knows_ how to be.

Damn the gods, _why._

He'd had it all figured out.

But... what? What _was_ he, then, to be so miserable at a huge profit?

_'No, who am I to you?'_

What was _she?_ 'Passenger' twisted in his gut and made him feel sick. 'Debtor' made him want to tear at his hair.

Why didn't he _know?_

What he'd seen in her eyes... would she even forgive him? _Ever?_ If he got on his knees and begged...

_'I am tired of being alone!'_

So was he...

_'You knew about Yoitsu this whole time, did you not?'_

He hadn't meant to...

_'That must have been why you were always so kind to me for no reason!'_

It wasn't; he... he'd just...

He wanted her to stay _to profit from her_ no!

_'And you are not panicking right now because you have already traded me for one thousand of your precious coins, **correct?** '_

He should.

_'Well?'_

But he hadn't.

**'Say something.'**

He didn't _want_ that.

 

_'I'm sorry.'_

...

He didn't know any more. He couldn't see it any more.

What _was_ he? What was _she?_


	19. S2E04: Merchant and Value

Amarti had made a _huge_ mistake, and it was going to cost him _everything._

His plan had hinged on being able to raise a thousand trenni silver in just a few days. He could have chosen a smaller amount, but he either overestimated Holo's debt, or wanted a big, flashy number to rub in Lawrence's face.

However, without the actual capital to back that up, he'd have to rely on something dangerous. After all, if it was easy to make that much money in short order, Lawrence would have settled down years ago. Big money meant big risk.

He could not _possibly_ have believed that Lawrence wouldn't work out what he was attempting. Then again, perhaps he _did_. Perhaps he really _did_ have that much contempt for him. It didn't matter; Lawrence knew his plan, and he knew it with enough time to act against it.

And just to compound his foolishness, Amarti had even given Lawrence the capital he needed to beat him.

The revelry was still going on, out in the streets and the taverns. Lawrence strode past it all; he had more important things to concern him, now. Even so, he couldn't stop a smile coming to his face.

He felt _weirdly_ elated. Maybe it was the quickness of his heart-beat. Maybe he was so confused that he'd just completely lost his grip on how he should be feeling.

Maybe... he _wasn't_ the careful merchant he thought himself to be. ... he might not be quite a _few_ things he thought himself to be.

He wished, _so dearly wished_ that he could take a look inside Amarti's mind. Did he not know the stories? Did he _really_ believe he couldn't be countered by Lawrence? Was it just confidence in his own ability to gamble, or in Lawrence's lack thereof?

Someone had once told Lawrence that those who did not study history were cursed to re-enact it. Kumerson was beginning to feel like a story out of an old, _old_ book.

Many years ago, a country to the east called "de Zeven" began cultivating a new kind of flower. The blömbol had bright, vivid colours that flowers from other places simply _could not_ match. The Zeven traders that brought them west had been canny; they had priced them expensively, and sold almost exclusively to nobles and the lesser rich.

It helped that even those who managed to get their hands on the bulbs found they were now stuck with plants they did not know how to care for and seemingly refused to flower for years on end. The cultivators of de Zeven were far ahead of everyone else, and loathe to share their secrets.

Seemingly overnight, blömbol had become a fashion symbol for the rich and powerful. A display of ostentatiousness that could _only_ be matched by buying more, and _more impressive_ , blömbol.

After a while, Zeven even started to export astonishing flowers with complex, multicoloured patterns through the petals. By that point, things had gotten _truly_ out of hand.

Blömbol had become _so_ valuable, some traders would accept them as a form of currency. He heard stories of bulbs, years away from producing anything worthwhile, being purchased for almost _unbelievable_ amounts of money. He'd read that _one bulb_ had been sold for something akin to 60 gold lumione.

Legend even had it that, toward the end, the cost of acquiring one single bloom of the most coveted variety was the modern equivalent of _two hundred and fifty gold lumione_.

_For a flower._

When he'd been _much_ younger, he'd struggled to understand how it was even possible for that to happen. These flowers, after all, did not serve any real purpose. He could accept the prices of fancy clothes; they at least protected one's modesty. Paintings, fair enough; truly fine ones were small in number and could be passed down through the generations.

But these flowers had eluded him. They _may_ be pretty, but they would wither and die. Buying them was akin to taking the money and tossing it down a well. _No;_ it was _more_ like taking the money and simply handing it to a stranger in exchange for a smile.

His master had told him, at the time, that he could get much more than _just a smile_ with that much gold. He hadn't understood until some time later.

He'd also explained why the flowers had been worth so much, and it was something that _to this day_ amazed Lawrence.

_Because **everyone** was greedy._

The flowers were _just flowers_. Pretty ones, surely, but plant them in the ground and look after them, and _anyone_ could have them. But by chance, some rich _someone_ had been the first to pay exorbitantly for one. And after that, well, his rival simply _had_ to have a finer one... of course, the price was now _slightly_ higher. As it was for the local noble who _it went without saying_ could not be seen as less affluent than some lowly guild-master or trader.

And so it went, a kind of self-sustaining fever-dream. The more people bought them, the more they were worth, which made more people want to buy them, which made them more valuable.

Blömbol started to be traded on the open markets, bought and sold in huge quantities, sight-unseen. Businesses sprung up whose sole purpose was to trade in and transport them. Those who had climbed aboard early would be transformed from paupers to finely gilded socialites, parading about covered in gold and fine silks.

Eventually, even the lower classes would begin to catch the mania. They'd sell _everything they owned_ to buy fractions of flowers, knowing that if they held on for _just a little while_ , they'd make enough money to buy a cow, or better clothes, or even set themselves up in a town. They would deal in goods they likely had never even _seen_.

The appetite for blömbols became so intense that people began trading in flowers that _didn't even exist yet,_ buying and selling purely _hypothetical_ goods.

The price _just_ kept _going up._

Until... _suddenly_... the price was _so high_ that _no one_ was willing to pay for them. They were too rich for even the richest of blood.

He sometimes imagined what it would have been like, to be standing in the market that day. To see blömbols suddenly _not_ sell.

To realise that they _weren't_ a sure thing. To think that it would be best to lower your prices a little and reduce your risk, _just to be safe._

To suddenly realise that _everyone around you_ has just had the _exact same idea._

So you lower your prices more. So do they. You lower _yours_ more. _So do they._ You look to the buyers, but the buyers aren't stupid, they can see _all too well_ what's started to happen. They no longer see a market of ever-more valuable goods... they see a market pushed beyond saturation, of prices so disconnected from the good's intrinsic value that there's really _no reason_ to pay that much.

Suddenly, it was a race to the bottom. Of course, by the time that realisation had set in, it would have been _far_ too late for anyone holding stock (real or imagined). At that point, it was simply a question of how _much_ you were going to lose. The faster you could fall, the more quickly you could get rid of flowers, the less ruined you'd be come the next day.

Some were _particularly_ unfortunate, thinking that the drop was nothing but a minor hiccup. That _this_ was their chance to jump on the bandwagon.

_Those_ people generally lost _everything_.

The blömbol trade hadn't just made individuals rich, the economy of de Zeven had come to rely on the pretty flowers for its prosperity. In the aftermath of the collapse, the country fell into a kind of economic malaise, and had taken _years_ to recover.

And now, he was seeing it in Kumerson over a bunch of _basically worthless rocks._

The fall of the blömbol market had been triggered by _just enough_ people, who had likely invested _everything_ on the rush, deciding to cash out at the same time. To all feel _just_ uncertain enough to begin the cascade.

Lawrence's goal was _much_ easier, by comparison. He might only be a single merchant, but this rush was being driven by the small-time rich, locals, and most importantly of all, merchants who were gambling with funds they _needed_ to buy other goods. Whatever happened with the pyrite, they _had_ to buy the wheat and other goods they came to Kumerson for. They would be the first to withdraw if they thought the tide was beginning to go back out. For everyone but Amarti and Lawrence, this was simply a bit of fun.

Not to say that it would be simple to crash the market, but fundamentally, Lawrence needed just _three things_ : a hammer, timing, and doubt. The pyrite itself would be the first. He would have to rely on his wits and cunning to supply the second. His little white lie about wheat prices would serve for the last.

Amarti was planning to ride this bubble to victory. If Lawrence could just strike the blow with enough force at the right moment, just when the merchants were thinking about getting out, then he could bring the whole market crashing down, _right_ on Amarti's head.

And then, Holo wouldn't be _able_ to le—

He stopped suddenly in the middle of the street.

Had he _really_ just thought that?

 

He rubbed the side of his face. She wasn't here, but he knew how she'd react if she ever even _suspected_ him of thinking that way.

Perhaps she really _would_ be better off with Amarti. If he did _nothing_...

He shook his head, and pushed himself forward. There wasn't time to be thinking like that. The one thing he knew for _certain_ was that he _couldn't bear_ for Holo to leave him. His manic glee had burned away, replaced by determination.

He held on to that feeling. He had to believe that, whatever he might do, he was doing it for the right reasons.

He supposed that, when all this was over, and assuming he succeeded, Holo would be the judge of that.

And may his goddess have mercy on him for his sins...


	20. S2E05: Merchant and Justice

_This was it._ The moment of truth. The stage had been set, the actors were all in place, and the curtain was rising. The joining of battle at hand.

He'd been involved in more business deals than he could recall, and more than a few intense sessions of haggling, but he had _never_ felt this mix of anticipation and excitement before. He could _feel_ the hairs on the back of his neck and hands standing up.

As a boy, he'd _dreamt_ of being a gallant knight, sitting astride a mighty warhorse, plunging head-first into the pagan lands to fight the good fight for glory and justice. Still, as he'd grown older, he'd realised that this was impossible for him... but at _this moment_ , he felt like that dream had _at last_ come true. This market would be his battlefield. Pyrite, his weapon.

And all for his princess. To _save_ her. _To set her free._

He had never really taken that much of an interest in the girls he'd met. It wasn't that he was averse... merely that he was always so _very_ busy. There never seemed to be _time_ for it.

That is, until he'd met his princess. He had fallen for her _instantly._ Her _manner_ , her _voice_ , those _piercing_ , _incomparable eyes_... she exuded a captivating, _other-worldly_ aura that had left him spell-bound.

She was... _unique_... amongst _all_ other women; of that he was _certain_.

His heart had overflowed with _such joy_ when he'd been offered the chance to spend the day with her in _his_ stead. To walk with her through the town, to see her face light up as she ate even the simplest of fare, to listen to her quiet, modest wisdom carried as it was on what must _surely_ have been the voice of an angel...

That had all changed when he'd learned _why_ she was travelling with _him_.

She had tried to wave it off, but he knew she was concealing the truth of her feelings, as surely as she had concealed herself as a nun. She was being held in bondage by the cruel millstone of debt.

_That man_ had put this elegant, astonishing, _captivating_ princess _into debt,_ carting her about the land as a piece of cargo, like some sack of grains!

He had held his tongue, at the time. He had seen her back to her lodgings... and then he had gone digging. He had not been able to turn up very much; although they called him a "brother", the truth was that few of his fellow guild-members treated him as such. They'd always seen him as an outsider. An anomaly. A pampered rich kid who'd fail _any day, now,_ just you wait and see.

But he'd learned _enough_.

This _hideous man_ was known to be shrewd and _ruthless_. There were stories that he'd been involved in some suspicious dealings to the south near Ruvinheigen. There was little in the way of _details_ , but the stories told of a _huge_ debt that had been there one day, and _suddenly gone_ the next. According to the story, the debt had been over _a hundred lumione_. There was simply _no way_ a merchant of that lowly calibre could _possibly_ pay that back without resorting to... _dishonourable_ means.

And _then_ , there was his arrival in Kumersun. He'd come to the town with a load of nails, which he proceeded to sell to a _wheat merchant._ It made _no_ sense whatsoever, _until_ he had realised what must have been his twisted logic: a wheat merchant would know little to nothing about the _true_ worth of the goods, putting him at a _distinct_ disadvantage in the negotiations. That the other merchant had agreed to purchase them, while not _proof,_ suggested that he'd been forced into the deal somehow.

It was _utterly_ despicable.

They may both be merchants, but he was _nothing_ like Kraft Lawrence.

Having heard all he could stomach, he had returned to his room. He found himself unable to sit still, _even for a moment,_ knowing that his precious Holo was being held in the _clutches_ of such a man. It had all but _broken his heart_ to imagine the endless days, sitting listlessly on a wagon bench, _wondering_ when she might _finally_ be free once again. The thought made him _burn_ with a _righteous fury_ at the injustice of it.

She was like a tragic figure from the old stories. Trapped, unable to escape. _Until,_ that is, a knight in shining armour came to her rescue.

It had to be him. _Had to be._ None of the other merchants ever seemed to _care_ over much about such ephemeral concepts as _"honour"_ and _"justice"_ and _"righteousness"._ All they cared about was _money and profit._

It made his blood _boil._ Even now, with all he'd earned, they _apparently_ still thought him a fool for holding on to his principles. Well, _he'd show them._

He'd stayed up most of the night, making his plans. He would free the fair Holo from her chains, and _ensure_ she would not have to wander even _a single day more._ He would give her the home and love she so _justly deserved_.

He would _worship_ her as a _goddess._

And as for _that man,_ well... even when dealing with someone as _conniving and duplicitous_ as he, it was important _not_ to stoop to their level. To mete out the punishment they deserved, but _no more._ He could return to the road with the coin he so clearly _coveted,_ and his reputation in tatters.

_That man_ had been so _very_ cock-sure in the hall. The attempts to show _benevolence_ as Holo's creditor, by parading her around the town for all to see, had not deceived him for even an _instant._

Later, speaking to Holo without the _repugnant_ man about had proven to him beyond a _shadow_ of a doubt that he'd been _right._ The _sorry excuse_ for a merchant had _lied_ to her, _deceived_ her, _broken her heart._ Even so, in her _infinite kindness,_ she'd seen _fit_ to extend an olive branch to him; a mercy to let the _undeserving swine_ avoid the humiliation of defeat.

She had asked about his assets in detail, no doubt trying to ascertain whether or not he could _truly_ best her captor. And once he had convinced her that he was prepared for this contest, that he _could_ provide for her, she had requested that he draw up a marriage contract. She had signed it _without_ hesitation.

He'd known, then, that his feelings were not one-sided as he had feared. He would have been willing to free her even if she had felt _nothing_ for him. Seeing her name, scrawled in her child-like hand, had forged his resolve into an _unbreakable_ chain.

And all the _pig-headed beast_ had to do was sign it, and it would have all been over.

But the _fool_ had done _no_ such thing.

He ground his teeth at the memory.

The _snake_ had come to him, with a smile so _patently false_ it made him feel ill. The _fraudster_ had tried to sell him on a complicated bet disguised _ineptly_ as a sale. He'd seen through it _at once._ The _cheat_ had realised how he planned to make the money he needed to free Holo but, being the _third-rate_ he was, lacked the capital to compete.

And then, that... _miserable dog_ had the _temerity_ , the sheer **unadulterated nerve** to stand there and tell him that Holo _hadn't meant it!_ That she'd "cried in his arms." That "she ends up saying things she regrets later." The _worm_ had called it _a rumour_ , when _he'd heard it from Holo's own mouth!_

_It had been the final straw._ He _knew_ in that _instant_ that _this creature_ did not _deserve_ a _single_ shred of mercy. It was his _duty_ to his bride-to-be to _crush_ this _hateful beast_ until _nothing_ remained! He _would not_ have Holo live the rest of her days knowing this... _this thing_ was merrily strolling about the countryside, _rich and comfortable._

He'd accepted the deal, if _only_ to make his victory all the more _bitter_ a pill for the _pathetic lout_ to have to swallow.

He could still see the look when he'd handed over the 500 silver in gold coins. _Oh, yes._ The message had been received _clearly:_ "no matter how well prepared you _believed_ you were, _it cannot save you now._ "

And now, he stood with Holo at his side. _His_ side.

He drew in a deep breath. It was _finally_ here. The day he would become the knight he'd always wanted to be, and save the beautiful princess from the _hideous ogre._

Amarti smiled as the bells rang, and the market opened.


	21. S2E06: Wolf and Mystery Ⅰ

They crested the hill and the village came into view. It had been a few long, cold days since they'd seen a soft, warm bed, so it was a welcome sight for them both. It would be a few _more_ long, cold days until they arrived in Lenos.

"We are stopping here for the night, are we not?" Holo asked, looking up the road and past the village, toward the mountains. She seemed concerned he might say 'no.' He nodded. True, they could still make more progress today, but these days, he was in no particular hurry to reach his destination.

The inn was a simple two-story building situated along the dead-straight main road that ran north through the village and out to the rolling plains beyond, with mountains standing sentinel in the distance. He couldn't immediately see where the stables were, so he pulled up outside the entrance and went in, Holo in tow.

Inside was a middle-aged woman, a little on the plump side, working away at some knitting.

"Good afternoon," he said. "Do you have any rooms available for the night?"

"God must be smiling on you; we only have one left. It is small, but it's good and warm, and has a lovely view of the road heading south," the woman said, a welcoming smile on her face as she set down her project. "Did you arrive by horse?"

"With a wagon, in fact," Lawrence replied. "We—"

"In that case, I'd best get Willem to stable her for you." She stuck her head out of the nearby window and hollered instructions, presumably at Willem, before turning back to Lawrence. "So, are you a peddler? Did you come down from the north?" she asked, pulling a heavy log book from under the counter.

"A travelling merchant, yes. We're actually _heading_ north, as it happens." The woman seemed the sort who wrung conversa—

"I _do_ hope you have plenty of warm clothes and blankets. It only gets colder from here. Your name?"

"Kraft Lawrence." Oh yes, this one was a _chatt—_

"I see; and your wife, if I might ask?"

Lawrence noted the symbol of the church faithful about the woman's neck and hung on the wall. "Her name is Holo." 'Wife' would be an easier sell than 'companion,' what with all its possible misunderstandings. Not only that, but 'nun' might see Holo subjected to an impromptu quiz on the finer points of church doctrine.

He really _should_ ask her how robust that disguise was.

The innkeeper nodded amiably. "My, but you _do_ look a young one!"

Holo smiled sweetly. "I should say I am older than I look, lest my appearance lower your opinion of my husband," she said in a sweet, demure tone, ducking her head from embarrassment. Was she implying that he looked _old?_ "In truth, I have often felt my elder sister took much of my share of the growing."

It was terrifying, if convenient, how easily Holo could slip into seemingly any role she chose.

"Ah, I had the opposite problem, myself. I roundly cursed my younger sister the day her head grew above my own! Four years younger, but you wouldn't know it to look at her!" She laughed. He should break this off befo— "How long have you two been married?"

He _desperately_ wanted to end the conversation, if only because the longer they talked, the more opportunities Holo would have to make sport of him. He _really_ wanted to have a rest.

"Oh, only a few months yet," Holo replied. She turned to look askance at him. "Even so, it has been _quite_ the adventure."

This was received as though it were a tacit admission of salacious behaviour. For all her piety, she _had_ to have details.

"Oh, my! How did you meet? I hope you'll not take this poorly, but you two make a somewhat odd couple..."

"In truth, I met my dear husband when he was passing through the village where I lived."

'Dear husband'? Uh oh...

"Well, God _does_ work in mysterious ways, but surely there is more to the story than that!"

"Oh, it is somewhat embarrassing, and not all that inter—"

"No, no; please _do_ tell!" she exclaimed, leaning over the counter.

Lawrence realised he'd been _completely_ excised from the conversation.

Holo blushed slightly as she began. "You see, I was quite unhappy, spending my days cooped up in the village, gazing longingly out toward the horizon. I could do _naught_ but wander through the wheat fields, dreaming of what lie beyond the hills and forests and mountains." Holo's voice had began high and sweet like an untouched noble maiden, her hands clasped tightly in front of her chest. It was _sickeningly_ winsome. "By chance, I had spied Lawrence from afar many a time. I knew him to be a good and kind man, and hoped in my heart that he could free me from my cage."

The inn's mistress was positively _enraptured_ by Holo's storytelling. He had to consciously avoid being seen smirking at the ridiculously overwrought performance.

"And so, during his last sojourn, I stole away from my home. I left all I had in the world behind, save what I wore, and snuck into his wagon." Holo ducked her head, averting her eyes. "'Twas not until night had fallen that he discovered me, 'neath a pile of warm furs. Rightly was he surprised, and meant to return me!"

The innkeeper shot Lawrence a look of incredulous disbelief. 'How _could_ you?!' it demanded.

"I begged him: 'please, good sir, do not take me back. If you will take me with you, I know I shall find some way to repay your kindness!'" Holo's eyes shone as she wove the tale. Then, her face took on an altogether different look, adding: "I had... already prepared myself for _whatever_ he might ask of me."

The woman's look was now a mix of pity and admiration. Lawrence hoped that Holo would reach the end before the poor woman swooned from over-stimulation.

Holo looked up, her eyes bright and moist, her smile soft and warm. "But he merely smiled at me and said, 'your yearning to be free has moved me; I shall take you wherever you wish to go. The loneliness of the road and the beauty of your smile is reason enough for me.'" The innkeeper sniffled at this blatant character assassination. "So began our travels together.

"Each day, he showed me such kindness, though 'twas in his own, peculiar way. Despite my merely being a passenger, he put his very life at stake to defend me!" The mistress' look of admiration was now directed at _him;_ it was a look he was rather unfamiliar, and uncomfortable, with.

Holo pushed on. "Before long, I found myself, well... when he professed his love to me 'neath the moon, what could I do but accede to those same feelings within mine own heart?" At this, Holo looked shyly toward Lawrence, then blushed and hid her face, clutching at his arm. "Forgive me, I am yet overcome by my fortune."

It was _utterly farcical._ But, he had to admit, it had won over the innkeeper. She quickly escorted them to their room, burbling about how they must want to rest, stopping only to wipe tears from her eyes.

He tried to say something about attending to his horse, but she just talked over him.

Once the door was closed, Lawrence finally glanced down at Holo.

"That was so sweet, my teeth ache."

Holo snorted and pulled away. "Thou are merely envious of my magnificent abilities!"

"Hmm? Would that be to spin tales from whole cloth, then?"

She gave him a predatory grin. " _She_ does not know the sort of man you are; you cannot blame her thinking over well of you!"

"That's not what I meant!" he spluttered.

"Oh ho! Were you perhaps not _noble_ enough in my story? 'Travelling Merchant,' _indeed._ 'Peddler' is hardly grand, now is it?"

"That was simply a matter of... of _accuracy_. You just didn't need to exaggerate quite so much."

"Oh? Did you not see the joy she took from hearing such a lovely tale of pure and honest love? Do you feel I have slighted you?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"No..."

"Do you think she would have preferred a more _accurate_ version, mayhap?" Holo embraced her own arms. "'Why, upon seeing me, cold and shivering, he drew his blade and threatened to haul me back to my prison!'"

"Now hold on..."

"'I defended him, but he recoiled in horror!'"

He flushed with shame. "That's... not..."

"'He referred to me as cargo, naught but a pretty sack of wheat!'"

"Holo!" he cried out.

She grinned malevolently. "Your complaints are because your reality is so much less admirable than my tale. Aye, there is a bit _too much_ truth in those sweet words for your liking, I think."

He wasn't going to just _stand_ there and take this. "Truth?! I must have been hearing a different story."

"And at which point was I so untruthful?" she challenged.

He raised a finger. "For starters..."

Only then did he realise that he was drawing a complete blank. ...she _had_ escaped with what she was wearing, technically. Strip away the grandiose words, and it was all more-or-less what had happened.

Holo's grin grew wider and wider as he wracked his mind for anything he could seize on. He could only think of _one_ thing; after all, _technically,_ he had "...never professed to loving you."

The moment the words left his mouth, he realised just what a colossal mistake they were.

He'd seen Holo feign hurt before. This could not possibly be feigned. Her eyes were wide with sudden shock, her mouth parted, lower lip trembling faintly. All the bravado and confidence that had been there a moment ago drained from her whole body.

"I... no... not in those words... but after our fight, I thought..." she took a step back and turned away from him, her eyes staring out past the walls. "I thought you had some measure of fondness for me..."

"Holo, I do... I, I didn't..."

"What did you mean, then, Lawrence?" Her voice was now hollow and listless.

He tried to think of how to put it. Even the haphazard, vague answer he'd given in Kumerson had been so hard for him; he just couldn't find the words.

So he stood there, mute. With a start, he realised that Holo had wandered to one of the beds, slipped under the cover, and curled herself into a ball.

'Words,' he thought as he put his hand to his face. He needed _words_.

There really were only two things he could do. One was to leave the room, and likely drive a wedge between them... but there was no way he could do that. That left only...

_...honesty._

He slowly walked to the bed and sat on the edge. Beside him, Holo curled up tighter. He took a deep breath. The cover around her head twitched.

"You're very special to me."

_"...What?!"_ The word came out in an angry, strangled voice. "You would _dare_ use _those_ words now?!"

"They're the truth. You're right, I _am_ envious of your way with words," he tried and failed to keep himself from wringing his hands, "merchants don't have much..." Lawrence sighed. "Sorry, let me say that again; _I_ have never made much use of any language at all when it comes to how I _feel_."

"As well I know," came an unhappy muttering.

"I've never had a companion before. The closest was probably my master, but I wouldn't want to spend my days with him if I could avoid it."

He paused to think for a moment. "There's never been anyone I _wanted_ to share a journey with." Even with her face hidden, he still felt the need to look away. "I'm a merchant. Money— _profit_ is more important than most anything else. It's the reason I live like I do... But surely you know, it's not..." he swallowed again, "... it's not the _most_ important thing to me." She had to know it was true after his battle against Amarti, if not what happened in Pazzio.

Holo made no move at all. It seemed this wasn't enough. "What you said about my reason... for bringing you with me. I don't know about back then... but..." He groped for something, _anything_ elegant to say. "I know I feel that way now. That and, uh..."

Holo lay still and silent under the covers. Lawrence couldn't think of anything else to say. Well, there was _one_ thing he could say. In theory. He knew the words. He just... if he said that, there would be no taking it back, no way to change its meaning. Was that... did he really...

Holo sighed. Slowly, she uncurled, and poked her head out from under the covers. "I suppose that will have to do, for now. 'Tis unrealistic to expect a more eloquent serenade from _you_ , it seems." Gone was the shattered, broken look. In its place was a wry, calculating grin.

_Bloody demon._

He put his face in his hands as she laughed at him.

"Oh, do not be so upset! You did not do _that_ badly, all told," she said in commiseration, patting his head. "Still, you _did_ take altogether too long." She sniffed and bounced off the bed and on to the floor. "I am hungry, and I do believe I saw a tavern not far from the inn."

Lawrence sighed in defeat. "Yes, I believe you're right. I'm not sure how good the food will be," he cautioned.

"Oh, that is of little worry, so long as they have plenty of wine!"

He looked up through his fingers to see Holo beaming happily at him. Once again, it seemed he would make amends through his coin purse. Beaten, he stood. Holo took his hand and dragged him out of the room, her tail wagging.

_To be continued..._


	22. S2E07: Wolf and Mystery Ⅱ

Lawrence sighed. He'd _asked_ her not to drink so much, but Holo had completely ignored him. She'd drunk, and drunk, and drunk some more. By the time they'd made it back to the inn, she'd been almost completely insensate.

Now it was morning, and Holo was sporting an impressive hangover. Her bedraggled appearance was rather amusing, though he was careful not to chuckle _too_ loudly.

"You do realise we need to get on the road today, right?"

Holo groaned.

"We've still got quite a bit of ground to cover."

This time, her groan was surprisingly expressive. 'I am miserable; stop bothering me,' it said.

She was usually good about _not_ getting too drunk when they had to travel the next day. It wouldn't kill her to sleep it off in the wagon, but he'd still prefer her to sober up at least a _little_.

In the time it took to go downstairs and fill a skin with fresh water, Holo made absolutely no progress toward getting up. He lifted the covers, put the skin next to her hand, and dropped the sheet back down.

There was the quiet sound of the stopper being removed. Slowly, laboriously, a water skin-shaped lump appeared next to Holo's head, accompanied by the sound of drinking. Then, the water skin was shoved out from under the covers, flopping to the floor.

Lawrence sighed.

"If you don't get up, you won't be able to have any breakfast."

"I do not want breakfast," came her hoarse reply.

This might _actually_ be serious.

"Holo..."

"I do not wish to travel today."

"The innkeeper will expect us gone before midday."

"Then go and give her coin for another night and let me sleep!" She was sounding increasingly peevish.

"You can sleep in the wagon."

"My head feels as though it is stuffed with angry mice. If you make it ache more than it already does, I shall bite yours _off_." She pulled the sheets tight around her, indicating that the discussion was at an end.

Lawrence could only sigh. He wasn't _quite_ feeling up to defying her right now.

A whole day lost was certainly less than ideal, but what concerned him was that Holo had never done this before. It was a little frustrating that she would so unilaterally decide to just halt their progress. It was odd; he'd gotten the impression that she was eager to get north and find Yoitsu.

Perhaps she was still angry over what he'd said yesterday. He felt it unfair for her to be so riled over a trap she'd _led_ him into.

Lawrence made his way downstairs, where the personable mistress was again knitting something. "I do apologise, but would it be possible to pay for another night?"

"Well, of course, but if you don't mind me asking..."

He smiled. "My wife had a bit too much to drink last night, it seems. She insists that travel would be unbearable today," he said, counting out coins.

"Poor dear. Really, you should take better care of her!" she admonished. "Still, I suppose it's for the best."

Lawrence looked up. "Pardon?"

The innkeeper smiled at him. "A hangover is never pleasant, but I fear the road will be even less pleasant today."

"...?"

"See for yourself, just take a gander up the north road."

He finished putting the money on the counter, and walked toward the entrance. Stepping outside, he could see a bank of storm clouds far to the north, pouring through the gaps between the mountains. The innkeeper was right; the roads would be utterly miserable today.

A nasty thought settled in his mind.

_"We are stopping here for the night, are we not?"_

Stepping back inside, he thanked the proprietress and made his way upstairs. He carefully went over the words he intended to use, then entered their room.

Holo was still bunched up tightly on the bed.

He walked over to the wall and opened the shutters. There really _was_ a clear view to the south. He padded back to his bed and sat on the edge.

"Well, since you're in no fit state to travel, I've paid for another night." He sighed and focused his gaze out the window. "You know, with clear, sunny weather like that, we could have made good progress." He heard a faint rustling sound. "There isn't much else to do, so I suppose I might just take a nap."

With that, he slid himself on to his bed and laid down, hands behind his head.

He just needed to wait.

He was certain that he had not told a lie. That meant Holo would have to decide: either her prediction had been wrong, or he was lying and she couldn't spot it.

The only way to be certain was to either ask him directly about the weather, or check it for herself; if she did either, he would win.

He had her trapped. All he had to do was wait patiently.

...

...

Lawrence scratched his nose.

...

...

He moved his hands to his chest.

...

...

How stubborn was Holo going to be?! She must _surely_ have realised her predicament. It wasn't as though waiting would...

...what if the storm was headed this way? The moment it got close enough to hear, Holo would claim victory.

_Urgh..._ she wasn't trapped; _he_ was! He'd been _so sure_ he had her this time. Had even _this_ been part of her plan...?

...he rolled his eyes. No, that was just _paranoia_. This wasn't some grand scheme on Holo's part; he'd just blundered into a hole he had dug himself.

So, what now? Defeat was inevitable... the best he could do was to surrender with as much dignity as possible, and do so _now_ before it was too late. Still... he _did_ want to get the better of her. Surprise her. _Impress_ her.

An idea came to him.

Sighing, he sat up. Taking a deep breath, he faced Holo and began. "You predicted the storm yesterday, which was why you didn't hold back on the drinking. You knew that even if we set out, I'd likely turn back and stay here another night, given the condition of the roads."

Holo's ears shifted. "But why, then, did you praise the weather for being so excellent?" Her voice was lacking the usual mocking tone he'd expected; she sounded curious.

"Oh, but it _is_. Out of this _particular_ room's window, anyway."

Her ears twitched. "Ah." Holo's head popped out from under the covers, a smile on her face. "You _do_ grow more cunning. It seems I should indeed be more cautious." Her smile faded into a questioning look. "And yet, to concede so quickly... why is that, I wonder?"

He smiled. "I was hoping that, if I confessed, you would give me a small concession."

"Oh? What sort of boon do you seek?"

"An answer. A truthful one... and one I will understand."

Holo frowned. "I have no reason to agree to such..."

"And yet I intend to ask anyway."

She studied his face for a long moment, before turning her nose up and away from him. "Very well, but I do not promise I shall receive your question without reprisal."

He nodded and cleared his throat. Then, he stood, stepped forward, and knelt beside Holo's bed. In his most fantastically pompous voice, he spake, "is there anything you would ask of of me to ease your suffering, my darling wife?"

Holo's eyes went wide as she stared at him. Then, she started laughing, her small body shaking with mirth under the sheets. For his part, Lawrence carefully held his pose and expression.

Eventually, her laughter subsided into mere giggles, her left hand holding her forehead. She looked back up at him, a stray tear in her eyes. She looked as though she was about to say something, stopped herself, grinned, then lowered her face. When it rose again, she was the very picture of a demure, poorly-feeling maiden.

"Oh, my dear, sweet husband," she said in an exaggerated voice, "I need but a little rest to recover, although..."

"Yes?"

"...'tis a little cold. Could I ask you to lend me your warmth, that I might banish this chill of mine?" Her eyes shifted from open and guileless, to half-lidded and seductive. "I am certain that I could warm you, too."

As he felt heat spread up his face, he reflected that she _really_ couldn't give him an easy victory. She knew his sense of propriety all too well.

No... it was _shyness_. He'd have to do something about that; he was _determined_ on that score.

He gave a cough and turned his head. "Well, that..."

Holo smirked, having gotten the response she expected. It was what he had been waiting for.

Moving quickly to forestall any attempts to counter him, he pulled the covers up, slid himself into bed beside her, and pulled her into an embrace. In the moment of her surprise, he wrapped one arm around her waist, the other cradling her head to his chest.

"Are you warm now, my..." mustn't reuse a phrase, needed a new one... so he said the first thing that came to mind, "...precious love?"

Holo didn't laugh; in fact, she was so still, he wondered if he'd said something wrong. But, after a moment, she snuggled against him and said in a voice he couldn't quite determine the honesty of, " _Indeed._ "

He reflected that it might not have been paranoia after all.

Really, this wasn't so bad. He couldn't think of much that would be a more pleasant way to spend some time in a sleepy village. Holo was warm and soft, her scent sweet, and her tail was now resting across the both of them.

He couldn't quite remember why he was always so resistant.

Still...

"You could have told me, you know."

Holo's ears twiched, flicking ticklishly against his neck. Her nose rubbed his chest. "Ah, but it is as that woman said. 'Tis no fun without a bit of mystery."

Lawrence wondered whether she was referring to herself or whatever god had decided to bring them together.

He found he didn't much mind, either way. He wasn't even bothered that she didn't even seem nearly as hungover any more.

He held her a little tighter.

* * *

"Are you warm now, my... precious love?"

With those words, she had lost _utterly_. It took a few moments for the shock to wear off. When it had, there was naught she could do but burrow against his chest to hide the blood rushing unbidden to her cheeks. Surely, he couldn't have used them deliberately, but even so...

" _Indeed._ "

'Twas entirely unfair. _She_ had been the one to lay in ambush. He had fallen into her jaws exactly as she had intended, and yet... and yet she had failed to anticipate how much his careless words would hurt. Of course he had never said as such, but to hear him deny it out loud...

She had no need to feign shock and pain in that moment, and as such had been shocked all the more. She knew well her own heart... or had _believed_ she did. She was fond of him. _Truly_ , she was. But hearing those words said with such ease...

As he made his fumbling attempts to mollify her, she'd realised that, though she _had_ inflated the grandeur of their journey, there was a none-too-small part of her that wanted to believe those final words.

And then, in a tiny moment of surprise, he had bested her.

_"... my precious love."_

He was doing to her what she had done to him. But she knew what lay behind the façade. She knew it from the nights he gazed at her, drawing his hand back before it could touch her sleeping body. From his desperate flailing against other males. From the way he argued so defiantly with her. From the innumerable small things he did to please her, even as he feigned his aggrievement.

There was a none-too-small part of him that...

She didn't want to think of it.

The game was changing in its nature.

"You could have told me, you know."

Her ears flicked, the dropped stone breaking the image that held her gaze. She let the stress drain out of her, rubbing him with her nose as thanks for the unintentional distraction. "Ah, but it is as that woman said. 'Tis no fun without a bit of mystery."

She wondered if he would ever realise that his snare had been faulty from the start? She had her hearing, after all, and the woman did _so_ love to talk.

Still. He did not do _that_ badly, all told.

He was not yet quite so cunning. She could stay like this for a time.

For a time.


	23. S2E08: Merchant and Merchant

They were sitting back-to-back again, just the right distance from the fire for it to be warm, but not uncomfortable. He sat facing it, the orange and red light dancing before him; Eve behind, slumped in shadow.

"I'm curious; how did you come to be a merchant?"

Eve gave an amused huff. "You know, I've _never_ been asked that before? No one's ever seemed curious in the slightest as to why a woman became a merchant."

"Ah, I apologise, but I hope you'll not hold my curiosity against me."

She kicked the leg of her chair with her heel. "I suppose one can't help one's curiosity... it's nothing particularly special.

"I'm not all that _sure_ what I dreamt of doing when I was a child; it was so long ago... I'm fairly sure becoming a merchant wasn't one of those dreams.

"I suppose I became a merchant because that seemed like the only path ahead for me at the time. My life..." she paused, and Lawrence heard the pitcher slosh. "It didn't go the way I'd expected. Or wanted. Or even feared, really."

Lawrence stared up at the ceiling, feeling the years wind back in his mind. The heat of the fire seemed to recede. "Yes, I know the feeling."

"Oh? You didn't grow up playing with coins and trying to get your friends to sign silly contracts?"

He laughed. "No, though that reminds me of someone I met once. Natural-born merchant, he was. I dare say that if you'd cut him open, you'd find gold in his veins."

"Sounds like the sort who'll end up being as rich as Croesus, or as dead as Inalchuq... though I suppose in the latter he _did_ rather provoke matters."

Lawrence nodded. "Indeed. Pulling a tail is a dangerous business when you can't see what it's attached to." Lawrence tried to imagine pulling on Holo's tail. He wondered if he'd keep his hand.

"Well," Eve continued, "if you weren't born to it, how _did_ you start?"

He shrugged as Eve passed him the pitcher. "Same as you, I suppose. I became a merchant mostly because someone offered to teach me. I guess if I'd shown even the _slightest_ bit of aptitude for it, I'd have become a farmer."

He heard a chuckle. "Did you accidentally kill everything in the vegetable patch?"

"Ah, no. I'm afraid I was just weak and easily distracted by my own thoughts. One minute my concentration was drifting, the next, I found myself in trouble." He shifted in his seat and took a pull of wine. "I fell asleep in the fields on more than one occasion. Once, I woke up with my father standing over me like a bank of angry storm clouds.

"Really, I'm probably lucky I was taken in by my master when I was."

He took another drink and proffered the jug to Eve. She took it after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, I was the same. I was very fortunate to know the man who taught me, though some of his lessons I had to learn the hard way."

A kind of gloom seemed to settle over the conversation. Lawrence felt compelled to break it.

"How bad?"

"I was very nearly bankrupted. What I had to do..." She took a long drink.

Lawrence scratched his arm. "I got to experience that for myself not long ago. I was looking at a 50-some gold lumione debt."

He could hear Eve fumble with the pitcher. "... how did you manage that?"

Lawrence considered his answer. "One minute I let my concentration drift, the next, I found myself in trouble."

"I'm curious how you managed to dig yourself out of a hole _that_ deep."

Lawrence held his hands up. "I'd really rather not talk about it."

"Heh." Silence. "Yes, I think we understand each other rather _well._ " He could only _imagine_ what she was alluding to.

"I can't take _all_ the credit," he admitted, trying to dispel the atmosphere. "In truth, my companion was in no small part responsible for my salvation."

"Ah, yes; your companion. You know, since you brought up curiosity earlier... what do you mean by that?"

"I thought you weren't going to ask."

"I'm not asking for details, just clarification," she said, shrugging. He sighed, and held out his hand for the wine.

"It's much as I said. We happened to find ourselves travelling down the same road, each otherwise suffering a paucity of company." Another huff of amusement from Eve as she handed him the pitcher.

His thoughts turned to what the innkeeper had said about the roads as he took a drink.

"No... actually, I guess it's more like we're on different paths that just happen to have converged for now." Every mile north they travelled, a mile shorter their journey became. He was trying not to think about it.

"That's always the case, with everything and everyone you meet," Eve said, interrupting his thoughts. "I could never stand the people who went on about fate and love and being together forever."

Lawrence got the impression that Eve hadn't believed what he'd said.

"The truth is, even _if_ the world was as perfect a place as they think it is, take any two people and it's a fact that _someone_ has to be the first to die."

Lawrence could feel her words opening a pit in his stomach. When it came to himself and Holo, he knew who that would be.

_"I found him to be a good friend."_

How many times had it happened...?

He took another drink.

He started as Eve shifted behind him, sitting up and rolling her head back next to his ear.

"Truth is," she began in a husky voice, "if by chance you happen to meet someone on the road, well, you'd be a fool to let that go to waste." A few months ago, he might have blushed. Instead, he felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. He wasn't entirely sure why.

Eve chuckled, then slumped back down, taking the wine from his hand. "Don't you agree?"

He thought about the woman sitting behind him. About the pretty hostess. About Chloe... about Holo. He wondered why life had seen fit to throw them into his path all within the space of a few months. He might call it unfair, but that seemed ungrateful.

"I might agree on specifics, but not in general."

She laughed at that. "I wonder if that's how you convinced your companion to travel with you."

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "I think it's more likely she's _responsible_ for my developing wit."

A log in the fireplace cracked, sending a cloud of sparks into the air.

"It's rather dangerous, don't you think?" Eve asked distantly.

"What is?"

"Getting attached."

He stared into the flames, twisting and dancing. A night not that long ago came to mind.

"You've never done that? Agreed to a deal you _knew_ you shouldn't? One where you knew you'd be shouldering too much risk—"

"—because you _wanted_ to believe? _Wanted_ it to pay off, this time, if no other?"

"... Yes."

One of burning logs at the bottom of the pile broke, causing those above to collapse, throwing a shower of glowing embers up into the air.

"I have. It was... _a valuable lesson._ " He heard Eve take another pull.

Lawrence didn't much like the implication, but he could think of nothing to say in counter.

"The trouble with grasping too tightly to what is in front of you is that, unless you're careful, you can lose sight of the road you were on."

"And what's the road you're on?"

"One that ends in an almighty pot of gold." She passed the drink back. "You?"

"A shop, in a nice town somewhere." He'd repeated it so many times, the answer came without thinking.

"Hah. And that companion of yours; is this shop of yours on her path as well?"

He stared back up at the ceiling. They were within reach of Yoitsu, now. Even _if_ they could not find any further clues here, there was enough to go on that they would likely find it.

In truth, Holo probably did not _need_ him any longer.

Once Holo had found her home... what then? What if Yoitsu was still there, or had been rebuilt? A village of wolves, hidden away from the world in the cold, mountain forests of the north. Far from the lands and towns and markets he knew.

That feeling returned. The one that had been troubling him more and more of late.

_"We live in two worlds, and they are _very_ different from one another."_

Could he build a shop in a village of wolves? Would they even allow it? If it was not common knowledge, then presumably, they had to remain hidden, so who would he trade with? Perhaps "village" had an entirely different meaning for wolves.

If not that, then what? It was not as though he could hunt. Compared to Holo's true form, he was a child. Probably _smaller_ than a child.

He couldn't imagine what he would do.

The alternative was not much better. Holo might have been comfortable travelling the land, but _staying_... could she _really_ hide her ears and tail for months, years, _decades_ at a time? How long until a stray gust of wind blew her hood off? Once that happened, the church would descend on them without mercy or pity.

Having to live a lifetime under constant fear of discovery, having to hide yourself from everyone; that was barely any life at all. Even if she agreed to return south with him, could he really ask that of her?

He didn't want to think about it. Every time he did, he began to believe that maybe what he'd told Chloe that day in the sewers had been horribly, tragically true.

He swallowed. "I don't know."

Silence reigned as the fire settled, crackling and popping. It didn't seem able to warm the room any more. He put the pitcher to his lips, but found it empty.

"Sorry about that."

He shrugged. " _Someone_ had to drink the last."

"Shall we go downstairs and see if there's any more?"

Lawrence nodded. He felt like he could do with another drink.

* * *

He opened the door as quietly as he could. His conversation with Eve had gone on longer than he'd intended, and he didn't want to risk waking—

A pair of narrowed, red eyes shone at him from the darkness. He was a fawn caught in the gaze of a hungry wolf. He heard a _"humph!"_ , and the eyes disappeared to the sound of a shifting blanket.

He sighed and slowly fumbled his way to bed. He had a feeling he was going to cop an earful come morning...


	24. S2E09: Wolf and Legend

The day was cold and the sky black whereupon the fishermen came running back to the village, afraid and trembling.

"A wolf!" they cried, "a giant wolf has come to eat us all!"

"'Tis a punishment from the gods!" proclaimed the priest, "for we have sinned and must be cleansed!"

Soon the beast stood in the village square and let loose a great and terrible howl that chilled the bones of all who heard it.

"Ho!" the creature spoke, "I am Holoh, reaper of souls! I come now to destroy you! I shall break your walls, burn your homes and consume thy flesh! Repent your sins!"

"I beseech thee, O Holoh," prayed the priest, "punish our sins, but leave our lives!"

"Ho!" the wolf replied, "but souls seasoned with sin and avarice are what I crave!"

"Please, O Holoh," begged the mothers, "spare our children, if not us!"

"Ho!" the wolf replied, "but they are the tastiest of all!"

"Eat us not, O Holoh," cried the farmers, "take our crops, our stores, our livestock, and our drink, but not us!"

The wolf paused. "But I am to punish you! 'Twould be wrong to overlook your transgressions.

"But if my belly _were_ to be filled, I might be forgetful."

At this, the villagers began tossing all the food they could find into its open maw. Each and every sacrifice, the wolf gulped it down. "More!" it bellowed, "still am I hungry!"

They gathered each sack of grain, each wheel of cheese, each cured ham, each sheep and pig and cow, and every barrel of ale and wine. The wolf ate them all.

At last, there was nary a grain in all the village. But still, the wolf was hungry. "I came for blood," it said, "I shall not leave without a taste!"

The villagers were every one afeared. One small boy stepped forward. "I shall be your meal, O Holoh, if you promise not to eat my family."

"Ho!" the wolf exclaimed. "Such bravery. Very well, little boy, I agree! Come closer."

The boy stepped forward and all at once he was devoured by the beast.

At last contented, Holoh the Demon left the village, to the wails of the boy's mother.

"Take heart," the priest said to her. "Your son is with the gods now. He has saved us all."

"Who has he saved," she asked. "We have no food, and we shall starve!"

"No," said the farmers, "the harvest is nigh; we shall work hard and survive."

And so, the villagers toiled day and night, and made a bountiful harvest, surviving to the thaw and the years beyond to honour the memory of the boy and to spite the calamitous wolf.

* * *

Holo glared down at the page. What good were all these letters and words if humans could not even be trusted to scribble the correct ones?!

That had not happened! That had not happened _at all!_ They had _insisted_ on the feasts. And she had even searched for the boy when he went missing; what happened was not of her doing!

What ungrateful wretch had written this... this... _slander_ against her good name?!

If the author were not already assuredly dead for an age, she would...

"Careful; I don't think Rigoro would appreciate you damaging his books."

Her composure returned. Her hands were gripping the old tome quite hard; so much so she could hear the old leather creaking.

She placed the book of lies down and turned her nose at it. "Really, I had not realised your legends were all so _unreliable!_ "

"Well, they're not _mine,_ and like I said, old legends are spotty at best." He was eating a piece of dried apricot. She wished she had not gulped down her portion so quickly. There were only a few left, but she might yet be able to trick some for herself. "They get twisted over the years." She was not a fool, she knew the treachery of memory. "Why, find one about yourself you didn't like?"

She voiced her annoyance. "No passage of the years could transform the truth so; no, this tale was twisted from the very outset!"

"Maybe it was written by someone who didn't like you very much?"

She scoffed. Such an obvious thought, it deserved some ridicule. "Who could _possibly_ fail to adore me?" She stood and twirled, placing her hand upon her breast. "Me, so beautiful, so generous, so wise! Why, any man who might chance to see me inevitably falls under my charms!"

From under her eyelashes, she watched him scratch his chin in mock contemplation. "Hmm, yes, I suppose you're right. Amarti was certainly captivated by you." She nodded. "And you even snared Landt." She nodded again.

"Yes, I see it now," he said, nodding. "That explains it; you've _tricked_ me into liking you!"

She threw upon her face a look of anger and disbelief. "What did you say?!"

He nodded once more. "Yes, it's clear to me, now. I've been ensnared by a seductress. I must break free!"

She narrowed her eyes in rage. "Oh _must_ you, now? And how shall you do this, pray?"

He opened his eyes and locked them with hers. The tiniest of smug grins lingered on his features. It spread into a cunning smile that looked out of place but oh-so fetching on him.

"Like so!" In one movement, he grabbed the remaining dried apricots and shoved them into his grinning mouth, chewing quickly.

"No! How could you?!" she cried out, watching her snack vanish.

"Ha!" he said around a mouthful of delicious fruit. "Without sweet things, you are powerless to enchant me!" He swallowed.

Intolerable _ass_. Really, he should _not_ have gotten so cunning so quickly. She huffed and turned her back on him, annoyed.

_She'd_ wanted another apricot.

And now he was chuckling! Did he think she could not hear him?

_Ass!_

She glared at the book.

"So what was it about? This story that upset you?"

"I shan't tell," she declared. "Only those under my spell could possibly be trusted with such."

"I see; oh well." With that, he turned away from her and back to his whatever he was doing.

Really, he could have _at least_ been a little more—

A single dried apricot bounced off her head and landed in her lap.

Accursed tail.

She snatched it up and put it in her mouth. He said nothing, nor would she.

She flipped through the pages, looking for another story...

* * *

A great while ago, a certain village was visited by a great wolf from lands of snow far to the north, where gods dwelt. This great wolf was called 'Hollo.' She was wise and knew many things, and carried with her the power of Eóitzu. She could speak to the land and the trees and the fields, whispering words of strength and healing to them.

It was known that if any would come to her with food or drink to her liking, she would grant them her power of wisdom, or heal their sickness.

One day, as the great Hollo lay in the fields, a man of many years came unto her. He carried a fine sheep that had been killed and roasted, seasoned with garlic and herbs. He laid the feast before her and knelt. The villagers gathered around.

"Oh Wise and Powerful Hollo! I pray, hear my request. My son is ill with a fever that persists now for many days. He coughs and cries out to me, but no medicine or tea I try can rid him of his suffering. Please, take this sickness from him!"

Hollo the Powerful sniffed his offering, but turned her head away. "Trouble me not with this; return and tend to your cub."

The man left in despair.

The next day, as the great Hollo rested beside the river, a mother came unto her. She rolled a barrel of the finest burning wine, distilled and flavoured with great care. She placed the drink before her and knelt. The villagers gathered around.

"Oh Sage and Mighty Hollo! I pray, hear my request. My husband was taken from me many years ago, though I love him still with all I am. Since then, I have had but a single treasure to remind me of him; a locket carved by his own hands. But... I have lost it. Please, can you tell me where I may find it?"

Hollo the Wise sniffed her offering, but turned her head away. "I know not where your treasure is; perhaps it fell from your neck and into the well?"

The woman left in despair.

The next day, as the great Hollo sunned herself on a grassy hill, a boy came unto her. He carried a poor loaf of bread and a mug of weak ale. He held them out to her. The villagers gathered around.

"Um, hello Ms. Hollo," he said, and the villagers were shocked.

The wise and powerful Hollo opened her eyes and stared at him. "Yes? What is it, little cub?" The villagers were afraid; the boy did not show the respect one such as her deserved!

"I was just wondering... could I touch your tail?" Terror gripped the hearts of those nearby: surely such insolence would be punished! Each was too afraid to move to save the child.

After a time, the great Hollo carefully opened her mouth. The villagers averted their eyes; she must be about to eat him!

But instead, Hollo the Benevolent accepted his offering, and proffered her tail. The boy laughed as he stroked it, as it swayed back and forth over him. The villagers were relieved and laughed with him.

The boy left happy.

The next day, the old man's son recovered from his fever. The day after, the woman's locket was raised from the well with the morning's water.

The villagers learned an important lesson: when asking a boon of a god, be sure to offer that which truly pleases them! From that day on, whenever the villagers went to beg the mercy and kindness of Hollo the Magnificent, they would bring with them a small child to please her.

* * *

This certainly explained some rather baffling behaviour. She had been worried they meant to _feed_ them to her. As for the lesson, it _should_ have been: try solving things for yourself.

Such foolish creatures.

"If you've found _another_ one to put you in a mood, I'm afraid we're out of dried fruit." She wondered if perhaps he still did not realise that provoking her hunger worked against him?

Then again, he claimed to enjoy watching her eat. If so, she would grant his wish!

"Is it not almost supper time?"

"I suppose so."

"Well, in that case," she said, closing the book and bounding to her feet, "I can think of how you might cheer me!" She gave him a grin.


	25. S2E10: Wolf and Stars

Her memories of this place had returned, for the most part. 'Twas a curious effect. She would begin reading a tale, confused as to when or where it was to have occurred, only for a sudden dawning, whereupon it was as if she had never forgotten.

Most of the legends concerned her time in this place, brief though it was. But not all. Some spoke of things she recalled having happened before her arrival in Lenos, some after.

Perhaps those who had recorded these stories had gone in search of more to add to their own. She imagined them asking travellers passing through what tales they had heard, hoping to hear word of an old, old friend, long missed.

'Twas a pretty idea.

'Twas just as false.

She had never been their friend; she had been a mighty spirit, a god. Whether they had seen her as a blessing or calamity made little difference.

'Twas always so.

Somehow, the book she held had contained the tale of the two lost cubs she had found in the vast plains to the south; the little boy and his princess. She smiled.

There were others, though, that it did not contain. So many. But recollection of those came too, whether she willed it or not.

The ones none but herself knew. Herself and those who had not lived. The ones too painful to tell. The ones that had no joyous conclusion, nor simple moral to teach. The ones of failure, and of despair. Of fruitlessly searching the land to save one that could not be saved. Could never be saved. None of them could.

"Wisewolf". Wisdom would have been to listen, those long years ago. "Leave her be." "Their kind brings only disaster." "Do not go."

"Stay here."

If she had stayed, she might have saved them. Some. Even one. Or perished with them.

She listened. There was no sound of his return yet. Oh, for a distraction.

They also did not contain the story that had occupied her thoughts for the past few days. That even now preyed on her mind. That, too, would no doubt remain untold.

Even so, it told itself in her mind's eye.

* * *

Once, there was a great and majestic wisewolf. This wisewolf had journeyed long and far across the lands. She had eaten and drunk with many people, shared her wisdom with many more, and even travelled a ways with a few.

She had imbibed of both joy and sadness.

Now she came to a small village, 'neath great mountains. It was surrounded on all sides by great fields of wheat, swaying golden in the breeze. It reminded her of places far away, and times long past.

In these parts, not all who saw her welcomed her. Some thought her a curse sent to harm them. Some thought her a messenger of a higher power. All but all revered or feared her, tiny as their kind was to her.

But on this day, she found one who did not. He showed no fear before her. He was awed by her, but not afraid. To others, she was Holo the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, warrior and sage. To he, she was simply Holo.

She could not recall when last she had been treated as such. Not since she had been with her own kind, far away and long ago.

At first, she remained to rest from her journey. When he asked her to stay, to watch over them and help them prosper, she agreed. Because it was he that had asked.

She was welcomed, praised, and loved. But it was a hollow love. It was the fleeting love of the weather; the sun and the rain were loved and cursed in turn, over and over. It did not abide.

But he remained, and she was happy to have found him. Someone to speak and sit with. For whom she was simply a friend.

She watched as he grew into a fine man. She watched as he fell in love and courted a young maid.

She was the fourth to hold his first child. Eighth the second. The third, she did not touch for days.

It was not his fault. To his wife, she was a mighty and unknowable god, whose whims could never truly be understood or trusted. She feared for her children. Their parents felt the harvest god's interest in their children and grandchildren an ill omen.

Others whispered discreetly about where her favour lay. She could see the beginnings of their expectations.

'Twas as though he grew fainter in her life. Less and less did she see him, speak to him, sit with him.

And then, he was gone. She watched him leave, for they could not stop her. But he was gone.

She left them to their grief, to comfort one another.

But who would comfort her? Who would share her burden?

There was no one. She had stayed in this place for that one, beautiful star she had found. The shining pebble upon the riverbed.

She looked around and saw that none of those left saw her as Holo. To all, she was Holo the Wisewolf of Yoitsu. She had promised to them, and she had obligations.

And so, she fulfilled them. She watched over them. She made them prosperous. She waited for the stream of life to flow uphill and give her another companion, to make the burden easier to bear.

What a fool.

She held on to his memory. Even as they forgot his face, then his name, and all but the promise, she remembered. Clung to it. But a memory it remained.

She loved them, her foolish wards. But she resented them. They grew more distant, and did not return her care any longer. And each time she summoned the memory of that bright star, she could feel it twisting inside her.

He had been her friend. Slowly, through her loneliness, he was becoming her jailer. His star waned.

She could not bear it.

And then, a new star appeared. Different in size and colour, in a different place upon the sky, half concealed by clouds, but a star it was. And it showed her the way out.

He spared her the agonising fate of having her precious memory of him corrupted further.

But it was too late to undo it. That bitterness would taint him in her mind and heart forever more. A cruel fate he did not deserve.

A fate she lamented.

* * *

The tome lay open beside her.

She fixed her eyes past the ceiling, beyond the blinding reach of the sun. To the night's sky that now hid above.

This story would not end that way. It would shine brightly to its end.


	26. S2E11: Wolf and Wisdom

Into the forest. Trees whipping at his face. Faster. Run faster! They're right behind! They... they are... who was it?

The men with heavy clubs? No. The men with signed contracts? No. The men with sharp spears? No. The man with the glittering rocks? No.

What is it? Is this new?

No. It has always been there.

Blackness. Endless blackness. Stretching out behind him. Waiting to consume him.

Run, just run. Save yourself. _Save yourself!_

... Can't. So tired. He was never this tired before.

He'd run and run and run. He'd outpaced it for so long.

No. He'd only just kept it at bay. He'd merely ignored it.

Now he'd noticed it, and it, he.

The howling wind and driving rain, a man alone, forgotten in a tower.

The quiet inn the man had walked away from, never to return.

It came for them all. It came for him. He can't fight it. Too tired.

Alone.

Closing in from all sides.

No voices, no sound. Emptiness.

A sweet scent.

A gentle nudge.

Turn around. No, not alone.

The wolf is immense, proud, beautiful.

A puff of warm breath.

Old eyes. _Familiar_ eyes.

_Red eyes._

Eyes like his own.

"Well, what a beautiful moon."

He reaches up, touching her muzzle.

"You there, do you perchance have alcohol?"

Yes, I do. Enough for two.

She reaches down. I take her paw. Her hand is warm. Her smile bright. Comforting.

The darkness recedes. The emptiness fades away. The forest is the same and yet not. She smiles and laughs.

We laugh together.

We walk.

"This is not bad at all."

We are running. Flying past the trees. The forest passes in a blur. _Nothing_ can touch us. I hold her hand tighter.

Ahead, a break in the trees.

We pass through it.

Light. The sun rising. Endless blue sky above. Rolling fields of gold below. Shimmering, waving in the wind.

The mountains in the distance. So far.

I can almost touch them now.

I reach out.

I can grasp them. I can grasp it all. The gold and the stone and the fields.

All of it.

The faces surround me. Not enemies. Friends. The darkness cannot touch me.

I have a place. A home.

A home.

The tears spatter on the ground.

_A home._

...

My hand is cold.

I turn.

The darkness consumes me.

* * *

Together, they walked. They fought. They played. Laughed, cried, hunted, ate, drank. They curled together against the cold. Rubbed against one another for comfort. Licked each other's wounds.

A pack. Her and her foolish partner.

He was smaller and weaker, and _so_ much younger. Yet he lashed out at those who tried to harm them. He fought for his share of the meal. He defended her, and he leant on her. Depended on her.

The world was cold and cruel. The innocent were cut down, the poor went hungry. Cubs, abandoned and alone on the plains. Dreams crushed 'neath the falling stones. Hope smothered.

He knew it, too. He _refused_ it. He fought it, lamented it. He was generous with both mercy and wrath. The little seed had not withered in him.

So naive. So foolish. So precious. _So precious._

She wanted to protect him. He needed her. He would be _devoured_ without her. ... No.

No, he was not so weak.

The seed grows, blooms, bursts into flower. Is it spring already? So soon...

A late storm comes. The cacophony is deafening. Lightning shatters the sky. It drives them apart. Its rains break the soil, the rocks shift, they nearly drown. But they survive. They survive and are stronger. He will not leave her side again.

The flower yet grows, and so fast. Too fast. Flames burst forth, but do not burn. The fire he carries warms her.

But the flower is burning. Consuming.

They find a valley. Familiar. There is another pack here, a younger pack. There is a place for him.

He looks to her.

As long as he would walk by her side, how far could they go?

Beyond the river bank.

Beyond the sea.

Beyond the dark forest.

Beyond the shining golden mountain.

Beyond the hills, shaken by water. Above all, the same moon.

They could go anywhere.

To where the air had a scent she did not know.

Together. On and on.

...

But only if she takes him. Only if she denies him his place. Denies him a true pack. Demands all of his life in all the days to come.

He is smaller and weaker, and _so_ much younger. And he has so few days to come.

It is a journey he will never see the end of. He will grow weary before the end.

She cannot watch him falter so.

He whines and rubs against her, nips at her neck. Whimpers.

Even if he does not understand, she must do what is right.

What is wise. _Always_ what is wise.

She runs, bolting into the forest. He chases her, barking and howling for her. This way and that, she turns. Through the bushes, thorns tearing at her muzzle and her sides. He is following her, tracking her scent. He knows it well.

But he is no match for her.

She crosses the river and hides beneath a pile of furs.

She peers back. There he is. He has lost her scent. He cannot find her. He howls, crying out into the night. She waits.

He moves on, still trying to find her, but it is too late. When he is gone, she gets up, and resumes her journey.

She passes the great, cold ocean, twisted and withered old trees, a crumbling mountain dulled with age, into broken hills shattered long ago. Above all, the waning moon.

How long since she had played with her pack?

Memory stretched back, a yawning abyss. She could barely make out the other side. Faint, half-remembered faces stared back.

One among them, his scent still strong, his back turned.

...

_I ache._

* * *

Lawrence came to slowly. He felt like he'd slept in an awkward position, or with a mallet under him. He was stiff and groggy.

He pushed himself into a sitting position as quietly as he could. Holo never appreciated being woken before she was ready, and he—

He looked over at her sleeping form, curled up under the blanket. He wanted to walk over and caress that soft auburn hair of hers, to listen to her slumber.

Lawrence couldn't be sure when it would happen. A few days from now, perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps today. Someday soon, the decision would be announced, and the deal would take place. He would hand Holo over to those, frankly rather skeevy, men. He would take two thousand trenni, sail down the Roam to Kerube, and turn it into _five_ thousand. He would return, pay Delink their share, free Holo, and suddenly have what he'd always wanted.

He'd be rich and have a store of his own.

And then say goodbye to Holo.

Such is the life of a merchant. And it was what Holo wanted for him. To forever freeze this time, like a piece of glass. Perfect and gleaming.

...

He put his head in his hands.


	27. S2E12: Wolf and Merchant, Merchant and Wolf

The cacophony of a town trying to tear itself apart raged about them, a billowing storm of fire, shouting, and anger. Men marched through the narrow alleyways, holding their tools aloft like spears, shouting demands. Others heaped carts and crates and barrels into great piles and set them alight. Terrified people huddled behind barred doors and windows, peering out into the madness, waiting for it to end.

Somehow, none of it could touch them. They walked through it, a pool of calm water slipping undisturbed through the whirling maelstrom.

#### Wolf and Merchant

She really _did_ have the most _troublesome_ companion.

All her efforts, all her worry and turmoil _wasted_. Did he think her actions came easily? Her decision made without great thought and consideration? To find one who so complimented her... who fit her so perfectly; 'twas a rare and precious gift. To set such aside had pained her.

_Foolish male._

The reason he could speak to her as such, to so _pompously_ disregard her request was that he was _not herself._ He had not lived as long as she had. Had not known and felt what she had.

It had been the correct choice; _was_ the correct choice. She knew all too well how an abundance of time could erode even the mightiest of mountains. What was once sharp and proud became dull and sad, withered and sickly.

She knew she must be the one to make the choice, for he _never_ would. No, though he struggled with himself, torn between the life and thinking of a merchant, and the desires of his heart, she knew well he would seek to bask in their companionship for as long as he could.

And so, she had, though it pained her greatly. He would be free to _truly_ return to and become part of his world, whilst she would continue on, the memory of their journey pure and unsullied. The seasons would turn, the pain would fade, and in time only the happy recollection would remain.

Yet now, her plans lay shattered like a clay pot cast to the floor, a thousand, thousand jagged shards all that remained. She had tried _so hard,_ endured it all, reminding herself that _this was right_ , this was the _wise_ thing to do. For she was Holo the Wisewolf of Yoitsu, and to do what was wise was in her _very name!_

All now cast aside for vain hope, to clutch at a simple dream. For the faint, distant prospect of warmth, that the night would never come, the sun would never set, that time would stay its hand. _Foolish beyond reckoning._

Because the heart was _not_ wise. Was _never_ wise. The heart was foolish and craven and short-sighted and so, _so_ selfish.

Curse it. _Curse it!_ Stupid, _vexing_ heart.

_And he was no better!_

The fool and his... his... _confounding declaration!_

...

_Stop wagging, traitorous appendage!_

...

She sighed and rubbed her face with her free hand. He was young and possessed of _little_ experience. She was old and wise. In truth, _she_ was more the fool.

She had been the one to suggest they pursue the fox: to claim what was owed, of course. That it would extend their journey was simply _unavoidable_. It did not change the wisdom of her original decision. When his pride was restored, _then_ would be the time to part.

And yet... he had asked her to whisk him away, carry him from the city. If she had done that, there would have been no excuse to continue their journ-

... _'excuse'_

Heh.

A fool _indeed._

...

There would be a price for this. One day, the bill would come due. 'Twas a debt; a sword that even now hung above both their heads, waiting to fall.

But not today.

Not tomorrow.

Beyond that, she could not say.

_He loved her._

She was smiling. She could not recall since _when._

She felt like a pup again.

She sensed him shift, and turned to look at him. He, too, was smiling, and clasped her hand more tightly.

Aye, one day. Perhaps before then, she would convince him to let it end. Or perhaps, with that kiss, she was now _truly_ under his spell. Perhaps he would stubbornly refuse to see reason, and the debt would come due. A debt he could not _possibly_ pay.

Of course, he already had some experience when it came to paying impossible debts. Perhaps... 'twould be... _acceptable_... to trust in that.

Her smile widened as the sounds of commotion from the dock grew louder. She held his hand a little tighter in turn.

 _Fools,_ the _both_ of them.

#### Merchant and Wolf

He felt strangely _unmoored_ , as though this were all a dream that he might wake from at any moment. But he knew it was real; the warmth of the small hand held in his could not be mistaken.

Nor could the throbbing pain on his face where she had punched him. He supposed he should be grateful she had not been in her wolf form. After all, the simplest way to ensure he could not chase after her would have been to _remove a leg._

On the bright side, where Eve had cut him seemed to have stopped stinging.

As he thought that, it began to itch.

Oh well, it doesn't matter.

He thought back over what Holo had said. Not just in the Delink building, but the night before in their room at the inn.

Now that he held her hand firmly in his own, he felt he could admit it, if only to himself.

_She was right._

How many times had he seen older men at a tavern, hiding there from their wives? Wives at home, complaining about their recalcitrant husbands? People who once burned with desire and passion for one other, that fire long since left to smoulder.

His time with Holo had been but a few months, but it felt like a lifetime. If they had already shared a lifetime together, how much could possibly be left?

... but his smile did not falter. He thought, instead, of Rigoro's glasshouse. Of the perfect, eternal summer living within, protected from the wind and the rain and the cold.

Part of him wished there was time to return to Rigoro's home and speak with him. There was but one question Lawrence wanted to ask him: 'How much did it cost?'; there was clearly no need to ask if it had all been worth it.

Glass was not cheap. _Good_ glass even less so. A wall made entirely of good glass, of various shapes and sizes would be _eye-wateringly_ expensive. _Four walls,_ plus a _ceiling,_ plus the labour to assemble it, the maintenance, replacing and cleaning the panes, plus digging and turning the ground and the carrying of good soil, the planting, the tending...

You might as well pile a barge high with gold coins, sail it to the middle of the ocean and sink it. It was the epitome of needless expense. Of frivolity.

And yet.

 _Everything_ had a price; there was _always_ a point at which the cost to maintain an investment was simply no longer worth the potential profit. To ignore this was to fall into obsession, to which you could lose _everything._

_And yet._

If he asked Rigoro, what would he say? Would he have detailed receipts, a ledger tallying the money he had poured into his indulgence?

Or would he simply turn, shrug, and say 'I have no idea!'

A part of Lawrence believed it would be the former, for Rigoro was clearly neither a fool nor crazed.

But for himself, he _hoped_ it was the latter.

If his master were to appear before him now and demand to know at what price he would release the hand held in his...

...he would no doubt be _frightfully_ disappointed.

This could not last forever. He suspected Holo knew that from experience. He thought of her counting off on her fingers; as much as they were lovers, they would _also_ be heartbreaks.

Perhaps this would be the same. Perhaps this was the greatest mistake he would ever make, the bet that ruins him.

But without risk, there can be no profit.

It occurred to him that Mark had been wrong. This was not _his_ story; it was Holo's. He was but one chapter of it. No doubt, she truly _would_ tell tales of a certain foolish merchant for centuries to come.

He looked down at Holo. As she looked back at him, a soft smile on her face, she squeezed her small hand.

What she wanted was for their journey, _all of it,_ to be fondly recalled in those stories. What _he_ wanted was for that journey, for this warmth he felt now, to fill the rest of his days; his dream of a shop, now so close to fruition, no longer seemed enough.

He was a merchant, so he would solve this as a merchant would. Sometimes, a difficult transaction could only be completed by finding the right path between where you and your counterpart each stood. Perhaps it was assurances, or rationalisations, promises in turn, or an adjustment to your own value assessment. You had to make them _believe_ that making a deal with you was the right course of action.

Sometimes, no such path existed... but the best merchants were those who _excelled_ at solving such navigational puzzles.

So then, he would simply have to _out-clever_ the Wisewolf.

Phrased like that, it seemed really rather simple. The women he was in negotiations with had _numerous_ unpalatable prior experiences with these sorts of deals. As such, she was concerned with the long-term negatives of the transaction; _she_ would be the one stuck with the repayments long after he was gone.

 _All he needed to do,_ then, was front-load the terms of exchange. Ensure that the up-front payment (to be made in continuous instalments over the course of his life) were _more_ than sufficient to offset the negative future debits. He would _fill_ her coffers so _grandiosely_ before he expired that the interest _alone_ would pay her way forever more.

...

It was a _completely_ ludicrous idea.

He felt her hand squeeze back as they neared the docks.

There was no point in keeping a ledger on this deal.

Nor did he need to ask himself the _other_ question.


	28. Extra 1: Wolf and Rhythm

It was Lawrence who broke the silence. "No." Just to be safe, he gave the reins a light crack, trying to get past the farm a little faster..

Holo continued to stare at the small feathery meals-on-legs as they milled about on the other side of the fence. "Oh? But surely it has been too many days since we last had a proper meal..."

"Not so long as to justify the cost of a whole bird." This was even _worse_ than the time they'd passed a local selling hot steamed potatoes by the roadside.

Holo knelt on the bench to look back at the slowly receding poultry and frowned. "I do not recall roast chicken being all _that_ costly..."

"That's a small farm. They probably rely on those birds for eggs, not meat. We'd be paying not just for the bird itself, but all the future eggs the farmer won't be getting." Holo sighed. "A copper's worth of rags is worth a gold to the man with nothing else."

"Yes, yes," Holo said, waving her hand dismissively. "I do understand the concept." Lawrence couldn't help but notice that Holo had yet to avert her eyes.

"And no sneaking off to pinch them, either," he cautioned.

Holo finally turned, a look of affront on her face. "I intend no such thing!"

"Well good."

"I am insulted that you would even consider it!"

"Well, you _are_ a wolf. Wolves are rather infamous for their... uncommonly liberal interpretation of property laws."

"You mean to say we are all inveterate thieves?"

Lawrence carefully kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "No, of course not. I would _never_ say that."

"... out loud?"

" _Definitely_ not out loud. Still, I don't think there's a farmer anywhere that hasn't had a wolf steal something."

"'tis the fault of you humans."

Lawrence blinked. "How so?"

"Frankly, I fail to see how the chickens are yours in the first place that you may complain of their theft."

Lawrence looked askance at Holo. "What? How are they _not_ the farmer's property?"

"How _are_ they?" Holo countered.

"Well, the farmer bought them or their parents."

"From whom?"

"Another farmer, I suppose."

"And where did _that_ farmer acquire _his_ birds?"

"From yet another." He looked back into the distance. "I suppose your next question will be: 'and where did the first farmer get _his_ chickens from?'"

Holo smiled. "How very perspicacious of you."

"I don't know, truth be told. I'd assume he..." Lawrence had a bad feeling about this, "captured it from the wild."

"Ah, so that first bird, and all its multitudes of descendants are 'property' by right of conquest? How very convenient for you!"

Lawrence realised he was rapidly losing control, but couldn't see how this current line of inquiry could possibly end well for him. Perhaps if he came at it from the side... "Are you trying to say that humans _shouldn't_ keep fowl? I suppose you'd be content to never have roast chicken again?"

Holo gave him a a sad, disappointed look. "Oh, my, but you appear to have rather _badly_ misunderstood. I have no qualms at all with humans killing other beasts for food. _Particularly_ when the meal is to be seasoned and roasted."

Lawrence frowned. "Then why di—"

"My complaint was that humans believe they are somehow entitled to exclusivity merely by virtue of being human. You believe it is fair and right for humans to take animals and eat them... and yet when wolves do the same we are somehow in the wrong?"

So much for attacking the flank. There had to be some kind of—ah! "But you see, the farmer does not simply imprison the chickens; he feeds and shelters them, protecting them from the aforementioned wolves. Does he not deserve some reward for this?"

"You mean the life of the bird, and the lives of all their offspring in perpetuity? You believe perpetual enslavement is just recompense for imprisonment? Even when the goal at the outset was that very recompense?"

From the corner of his eye, he could see that Holo was giving him _that_ look. The one where she smiled with all her teeth on full display, as though to remind him who the more skilled hunter was.

It wasn't an avenue he especially _wanted_ to explore, but perhaps he could make an argument based on slavery. After all, if humans considered other humans reasonable as chattel, then surely mere _chickens_ would be—

"Since you appear to be too busy to respond, shall I fill this uncomfortable silence with an additional complaint?"

"Oh, that's really quite unnecess—"

"I find the way you humans disparage wolves even _more_ tiresome when one considers how you not only stole your livestock, but stole the very land you occupy from the wolves."

He felt his mental thread slip off the metaphorical spool in a tangled heap. "... we what?"

"I have seen it many times. Humans arrive in an area and begin cutting down trees and clearing fields for your crops and cruelly enslaved beasts. But what of the others that already live there? Not just the wolves, but the deer, the birds, the squirrels... all are pushed away from their homes because of your insatiable hunger for all things.

"What are they to do? Starve?"

"They could... move elsewhere?" He did not sound very convincing, even to himself.

"Time and again, I have seen packs abandon their homes and travel to some new territory, only to be forced away once more by a different group of humans.

"The truth is that humans steal everything you have from the world around you, giving back coals and bones. And yet, when any dare to steal from _you_ , they are evil monsters that deserve scorn and death."

For the first time in his life, Lawrence felt truly _wretched_ about having eaten eggs for breakfast. Holo's words had buried him in such an impenetrable thicket of indignation and logic that he could no longer see daylight.

Resolutely staring at the road as he was, he couldn't see her face, but he could _feel_ her piercing gaze on him.

"What do you want me to say?"

He felt Holo pat him on the head.

"Poor, confused pup." She settled down next to him. "Have you forgotten? All beasts take from others in order to survive. The difference is that only humans hate others for their efforts to survive. You believe your survival is somehow more important than others'."

"... I don't think _deer_ kill other animals."

"For food? Perhaps not, but who are you to say that grass is not alive?"

"I'm not sure I like the idea that I've left every patch of grass I've ever stepped on silently screaming in pain." The phrase 'steamed potatoes' came back to him, causing him to shiver slightly.

Holo smiled. "I do not blame you. It is certainly not something the deer think on."

"I'm confused. Do you think it's _wrong_ for humans to keep livestock, then?"

"I cannot say. I am not god, nor am I your judge. Humans do the things they do because they wish to survive, to live as best they know how.

"Why can you not accept that others are doing the same?"

"... Perhaps because when a bandit pulls a sword out and demands my goods, I can reason with him. I can talk to him, sympathise with him, and he with me. When a wolf pack attacks... I can't."

Holo was quiet. For so long, that eventually Lawrence peered down at her. She looked deep in thought.

"So your contention is that because humans and wolves cannot communicate, you cannot understand each other?"

Lawrence looked back to the horizon. "I suppose so."

"And yet, what would you call this?"

He looked down at her again. She didn't appear to be showing him anything, or gesturing at anything. He wasn't sure what she was...

Oh.

He gave a single huff of amusement. "An exceptional case."

"Oh ho? None the less, I am a wolf; do you understand what I am saying?"

Lawrence sighed in defeat. "Yes, I think I do."

Holo grinned.

The cart rattled down the road.

"So you shall have no objections if I was to—"

"Yes, I shall!"

"But did you not just concede..."

"You can have roast chicken at the next town, just leave the poor farmer alone!"

Holo smiled, her tail wagging.

The sun turned overhead, and silence returned.

It was Holo who broke the silence. "I would not need to be quite so _philosophical_ in my arguments if you would simply accede to my modest requests."

Lawrence thought about this. "And yet, if I did not argue with you, I imagine you would be rather upset with me."

"Oh ho? _Moreso_ than when you cruelly deny me delicious chicken?"

"Yes. Moreso."

Holo said nothing. Instead, she scooted over on the bench and leant against him.

A soft breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, and silence returned.


	29. Extra 2: Wolf and Dragons

It was steadily becoming intolerable. For days now, they had been slowly making their way along this road. Aside from the odd tree, there was nothing to break up the endless, white expanse that was the landscape before them. At least their trek across the kingdom of Winfiel had been short; but in this case, they were still _days_ from their destination.

This might have been alright if it weren't for Holo's disposition. Lawrence wasn't certain what, precisely, she was feeling. If nothing else, he had at least learned to be _exceptionally careful_ about thinking he knew what Holo was thinking, and even _more_ careful about thinking he knew what Holo was _feeling_. Even so, he felt sure that under the weight of recent events, not to mention what lay ahead, her heart and mind must be in no slight disarray.

However, it would be _inappropriate_ for a wisewolf to show as much. Thus, her present state. Such reasoning was useless, though; it didn't make him feel less lonely, nor less powerless to help her.

At least she didn't seem to be actively not talking to him any more.

If he were a more personable man, he might cheer her, or at least _distract_ her, by engaging in pleasant small talk, or even telling her tall tales... but he couldn't think of any. At least, none that she had not already heard. He _truly_ wished he had paid more attention to the stories he had heard over the years. As it stood, all he could recall in the moment was an endless string of 'and then I bought this and went there, where I sold it'.

He'd once passed the time telling her such meandering tales, but they didn't seem the sort of thing that would lift her spirits.

Right now, all he could think to do was keep the wagon moving steadily, so that their journey didn't take longer than it needed to.

Glancing back, he saw that Holo was occupying herself by carefully examining their map. It wasn't the first time she'd looked at it so intently. He did wonder if she was trying to burn it into her memory just in case. Or perhaps she was trying to summon memories of the places it depicted.

Maybe she was just _that bored_.

He turned his eyes back to the road, only to feel a tap on his arm a few moments later. "Hey, you; what are these?" Looking down, he saw the map thrust out, Holo's gloved hand pointing at a spot in the middle of the ocean near the edge.

He blinked.

"Oh; it's a dragon, I suppose."

"A... dragon, you say?"

Lawrence was _almost_ tempted to make her ask, but that would likely only sour her mood further. "They're huge, winged lizards, many times larger than even you in your true form," he told her. "They have scales like the toughest mail, talons like scythes, teeth like spears. They can demolish entire castles on a whim." He looked up at the sky, thoughtful. "I suppose you could say they are the natural enemy of all knights."

Holo sniffed, an oddly amused expression on her face. "Large or small, any opponent can be felled with a little thought."

Lawrence smiled. "They are said to be intelligent, calculating... able to confuse or sway men with just their words. They delight in the manipulation and torment of others, and are utterly without merc—" he realised that Holo was giving him a withering look. It took a moment for his mind to catch up. "I _did_ mention that they were _flying lizards_ , yes?"

"An important distinction, aye. I would hate for you to become _uncertain_ as to what kind of creature you speak of."

He coughed. "Well, I still haven't told you the worst part about dragons: they breathe fire. Not the poor stuff you might get from an oven, or a great bonfire. Even the heat of a blacksmith's furnace is no match. Fire so hot that wood, steel, stone; all are about as useful a defense as parchment," he finished, giving a grand wave of his arm for vague emphasis.

"Oh ho. A terrifying opponent indeed, then." Holo said with a chuckle as she took the map back.

"To be honest, I'm rather shocked that you've never heard of them before."

"Oh, but I have."

He frowned. "But... then, why didn't you..."

"Because you seemed to be enjoying your little monologue," she said, glancing up at him from under her eyelashes, her mouth quirking in a grin.

Lawrence sighed. Of _course_ she knew what a dragon was, she just hadn't recognised the rather embellished drawing on the map.

As Lawrence was thinking this, Holo spoke up again. "I thought it might have been such a beast, 'twas just that... I could not fathom why a dragon would live in the ocean. Surely the sea would quench its fires," she muttered in a skeptical voice.

First came understanding. Then came laughter. Awareness of what he was doing, tragically, came last.

His hands shot up defensively. "I'm not laughing at you! I'm not!" he cried out through his guffaws as she glared daggers at him.

"Oh?!" Her voice sounded _incensed_ and her ears twitched.

"I... well, alright, I _am_ laughing at you, but I swear there's a good reason!" he said as he tried to bury said laughter.

"Aye? You wish to sleep in the cold all of a sudden?" Holo was giving him a look so frigid, he wondered if he might freeze to the bench.

"No! I... will you at least let me explain? There's a story to it."

She continued to glare at him.

"I... think you'll like it; if I'm wrong, you may feel free to be angry with me."

"Am I not free to be angry with you as I please, then?"

Lawrence sighed. Holo gave a _'harrumph!'_ and brusquely said, "very well, though I _do hope_ for your own sake that this tale meets with my approval!"

"Oh," he replied, somewhat miserably as he tried to decide where to start, "I think it will."

* * *

"You see a man selling fruit," his master began, completely out of nowhere. Lawrence immediately broke out into a cold sweat. "There he is, side of the road, with two crates." Lawrence bent his entire mind to every word being said. "In one crate, beautiful red apples, shiny and perfect; not a blemish. So good, in fact, that you can already smell their sweetness. In the other, some strange fruit you've never seen before.

"Their skins are a sickly yellow, pitted and like tough leather. When you get closer, there is a slightly oily, sour smell coming from them.

"The peddler tells you that he found them abandoned, and has no idea what they are. He'll sell you the fruit, a few copper a piece. What do you do?"

Lawrence _hated_ these questions. Randomly, without warning, his master would spring these on him, asking him something which, most of the time, he really had no way of knowing what the answer was. His master's justification for this was that life was full of uncertainties, and that a good merchant knew how to cope with them.

It didn't change the fact that whenever Lawrence got one of these questions wrong, he'd get a strike on the back of his head.

He almost _always_ got them wrong.

* * *

Holo chuckled. "'Twould seem you hardly change at all, long though the years may be!"

"Shall I stop the story, then?"

"Surely not! I wish to hear more of this fine-sounding master of yours," she said, smiling widely.

Lawrence grumbled nothing in particular, powerless to do anything but press on.

* * *

He tried to think about it, particularly for any pitfalls.

"Is there room on my wagon?"

"Plenty; you could stand to be carrying more goods."

"What is the price of apples in the area?"

"If you were to buy at least half, you would no doubt make a worthwhile profit."

"How much can I afford?"

"That depends on how much you are willing to risk, but let us say you have coin enough to comfortably buy them all."

He thought again.

"Are apples in some way banned in the area? The source sounds suspicious, like he may have stolen them. Is there any real chance I could get in trouble merely from carrying them?"

"No."

"Is the market stable? Is there any reason for me to fear a sudden crash in the price?"

His master nodded in approval. "No."

More thinking.

"The man, he truly knows nothing about these yellow fruit?"

"Indeed, he does not."

Lawrence couldn't think of anything else to ask. He thought through the possibilities, weighed the risks, and...

"I shall buy the crate of apples, not the other fruit."

He reeled from the slap to the back of his head. "No."

He rubbed his head and considered his next-best option. "Then I shall buy the apples and half of the other fruit."

_Slap_. "No again."

He scowled. "The crate of apples, and two of the others; one to try and another to have identified so at least I know what the stupid thing is!"

_Slap_ , followed by a chuckle.

Lawrence practically exploded. "I buy nothing because, I assume, the apples are the trap!"

_Slap_. "No. They're just apples, nothing more."

"Then what was the answer?!" Lawrence asked in exasperation.

"Answer? I never said there _was_ one."

* * *

Holo's laughter sounded unpleasantly like his master's.

"I grant you: this tale does _indeed_ meet with my approval!"

"I'm so very glad to hear that," he retorted dryly.

"I think I begin to understand why you were so fond of that shepherdess!"

Lawrence blinked at this random change in subject. "What?"

Holo pulled herself, still wrapped in a blanket, on to the bench beside him. She had a smile on her face and, for the first time in days, in her eyes as well. "It is hardly complicated to see that a boy treated to such harshness would be enticed by a soft, demure female, all smiles and warmth." She grinned at him.

"Yes, I suppose it _does_ make me wonder quite why I put up with you," he shot back.

Holo slapped his arm. "'Tis because for all your foolishness, you are at least a _discerning_ male." She pushed herself up, leaning her face close to his, a wicked look on it. "You crave the sour as well as the sweet, do you not?"

He pressed his finger to her nose, pushing her back down on to the bench. "Do you want me to continue?"

"Oh? Can I not stop to smell the flowers without abandoning the journey? And here, I was convinced you _enjoyed_ a good diversion..." She smiled.

Lawrence sighed and cleared his throat.

* * *

Lawrence scowled at his master. "Then why ask me?"

"To teach you a lesson. The world is bigger than you imagine. You all but _ignored_ the second fruit because you did not know what it was, correct?"

Lawrence nodded.

"Well, what if I told you that a single piece of it would easily fetch a silver or more?"

"But then... my second answer was the correct one!"

"No! You _believe_ you were hedging your bets, but without knowing what the yellow fruit was, you could not have _hoped_ to profit on it!"

Lawrence looked down at the bench below him.

"Cargo you don't understand is as good as worthless; there is nothing to be gained from carrying it."

* * *

Lawrence could _feel_ Holo's gaze on him. He couldn't help but feel that _sometimes_ , she read too much into things.

"On that subject, I can _safely_ say my master was completely and utterly wrong."

She relaxed and lent against him.

* * *

"The fruit I described comes from across the sea, or the far south. It grows in warm climates. If eaten fresh, it will make you want to bite your tongue off from the sourness. Squeezed into water, it will make even the hottest day pleasant and cure your hangover. On seafood, I am told, it is divine. But, its true magic is that when baked, its sourness turns into sweetness, with a flavour like nothing else. It is a delicacy that only nobles and the rich are likely to taste.

"None of which helps you sell them unless you bloody well _know that_."

Lawrence sulked.

* * *

"This fruit," Holo again interrupted, "what is it called?"

Lawrence shook his head. "My master didn't bother to tell me, and I was so upset with him I didn't ask," he said, praying to every god and saint he could think of that Holo wouldn't catch the silent 'at the time.'

He dared not even _think_ the name.

* * *

His master was not finished with him, however. "I think it would do you good to get some sense for the size of the world. _Conveniently_ , I happen to know of a suitable map at our next stop.

"It will give you _perspective_. I wonder what _that_ is worth?"

Lawrence mulled this over. "Less frequent beatings?"

His master laughed.

* * *

The town was unremarkable. The market was neither terribly large, nor terribly diverse. The bolts of cloth they were carrying sold well enough. The real draw was the abbey.

It was a large, stone building; imposing, even if it lacked some of the grandeur of other church buildings he'd seen. His master insisted that what made this place worthwhile was its considerable library, within which was the map he'd mentioned.

His master seemed familiar with the monk who answered the door and, with a not ungenerous tithe given, they were shown through the white stone hallways to the library. Books, scrolls and loose papers of every description jutted out from every available flat space. They even appeared to be stacked _between_ shelves. How anyone could find anything in this mess utterly escaped Lawrence.

Indeed, it took quite a few minutes of the monk's muttering and searching to find the map in question. Some more time had to be spent clearing a table of detritus before the monk could carefully unroll it.

It was immense, drawn on what looked to be several parchments, all finely stitched together. Black marks filled every available bit of space, from end to end. It was _magnificent_.

But that was nothing compared to how he felt when his master took his finger and pointed to one spot about the size of six silver pieces on the left of the great drawing. "This," he said, "is the Kingdom of Trenni."

It took a while for this to register in his mind. The kingdom was... well, _vast_. It took days and days on end to cross. But, his master was pointing to what was, compared to the whole, nothing but a tiny area.

"And here," his master continued, pointing to a miniscule dot, "is the capital city." Suddenly, in Lawrence's mind, the map snapped into place. The almost invisible line there was the Slaude river. Villages, towns and forests too tiny to be bothered with at this scale appeared in his mind's eye.

He could do nothing but stare, agog.

His master wasn't finished. "Finally, here," he said, his finger moving slightly, "is you. No doubt, even if you were to be drawn on this, you would be smaller than the tiniest grain of sand, utterly invisible."

Lawrence felt very small... inconsequential. But below that was something else he had not felt since he was a child: wonder.

* * *

"'Tis true," Holo interjected, "you humans _do_ possess an overly inflated sense of your own importance."

Lawrence cocked his head. "I can't really speak to that, given that I _am_ a human... but it certainly was the first time I really had to confront the idea that, well... the world was much bigger than I could _ever_ really imagine."

He paused his telling for a few moments.

"Actually, _you_ were there for the second time I ever felt that way."

"Oh? And when was that?" she asked, her tail making a soft swishing sound beneath her blankets.

Lawrence merely smiled, thinking back to a night marked by a full moon, a wagon full of furs, and an unexpected passenger.

* * *

"Meanwhile!" His master's hand tracked across the great ocean, to a body of land that must have been hundreds of miles away. " _Here_ is the land where those yellow fruit come from."

Lawrence's mind sprang into action. "The shipping alone... that distance, those seas... the chance of failure... a few silver a piece would be almost _robbery_."

His master smiled. "Indeed! Do you begin to understand? It is not lack of knowledge that you should truly fear, but not seeing the _scale_ of the knowledge you lack."

"My _third_ answer was correct: I saw something I did not know, and should have taken the chance to learn about it."

"True enough."

"But then... why did you hit me?"

"How else would you remember?" He grinned nastily.

Lawrence turned away from his master and looked again at the map, and something caught his eye. "Master..."

"Yes?"

Lawrence hesitated. Asking stupid questions of his master was a poor idea at the best of times.

"It's too late for that," his master said, "get it over with."

Lawrence chewed his lip. "Why are there dragons in the sea? Wouldn't they drown? There are no islands nearby, and they must land to sleep, right?"

* * *

Holo _exploded_ into peals of laughter. She was holding her sides, her face a mask of glee. This wasn't the reaction Lawrence had been expecting; he'd been preparing for her to be upset that her thoughts were being likened to his own, but apparently she didn't see it that way.

She slowly slipped sideways, laughing hoarsely and breathing in great gulps of air. In the end, Lawrence had to put a hand on her side out of fear she might fall off the wagon.

Still struggling for breath, she dragged herself upright and propped herself against him. Doubtless, it wasn't because she was cold.

"It would seem," she managed to say between fits of laughter, "that even you cannot help but show some wisdom at times!" It certainly answered the question of which she preferred: elevating herself or denigrating him.

"I don't see why that should be so very amusing, though," he admitted.

"Ah," she replied, "that was not why I was laughing, in truth." She ceased her laughter and looked up at him with a wry smile. "Your master, he slapped you, did he not?"

Lawrence sighed.

* * *

His master slapped him. "Drown?! Do you honestly believe dragons are _real?!_ "

Lawrence rubbed the back of his head. "N—no."

_Slap._ "What did I tell you about lying?"

"I'd never heard tell that they _weren't_ real!"

Even the monk, it seemed, was chuckling.

"A massive, fire-breathing lizard? You might as well believe in gryphons and unicorns and narwhals!"

* * *

Holo let out a short "ha!" Lawrence gave a self-satisfied grin. "No doubt, he didn't believe in giant wolves, either."

This elicited a broad smile from Holo. "Yet more proof that all humans are foolish!"

Lawrence chose not to remind her that _she_ had once believed in a fairy tale.

* * *

"Fine, they're all made up, I get it!" He looked up to find his master looking contemplative. Lawrence's blood ran cold.

"Perhaps. Perhaps. But I think there might be _another_ lesson in this."

Lawrence sincerely hoped not. His head hurt enough already.

"Yes, I do believe I have another puzzle for you."

Lawrence tried not to whimper.

"However! This one is, I admit, a bit unfair." Lawrence was now beyond all hope of success. "As such, if you can answer it before we reach the next town, I will give you... five _trenni_."

Lawrence's eyes bulged. His response came immediately. "What if I fail?"

His master smiled viciously. "Then you'll feel my hand, as ever. Also, just so that you don't get _too_ injured, I will allow you _only one_ answer."

Lawrence nodded carefully. "What is the question?"

" _Why dragons?_ "

* * *

The next leg of their journey was all but silent. His master had allowed him no questions to clarify anything. There were only three days to the next stop on their route, but they seemed to fly by far too quickly.

Said days were spent staring off into the distance, his mind racing around and around. His nights were sleepless, his thoughts consumed by the bizarre question as the stars wheeled overhead.

Why dragons?

At one point, some comely girls had tried to catch his attention as they drove through a small village. Apparently, anyway. His master had a habit of making such things up, and he'd been too absorbed in the question to notice.

_Why dragons?_

All too soon, they were within sight of their destination.

"Well, do you have an answer?"

Lawrence held his head in his hands, still trying to unpick the question. Why dragons? Why not? Why anything? He could think of a few possible answers, but he could only choose one, and they all seemed equally unsatisfying.

"It is tricky, granted, but I _have_ warned you about excessive caution, haven't I?"

Lawrence screwed up his face in concentration. There _was_ one answer... but it seemed too obvious to be correct.

"Time's running out, boy! Do you have an answer or not?"

There was nothing for it. He took a deep breath, and braced himself for the blow, closing his eyes.

"Because whoever drew the map _doesn't know what's there._ "

Nothing happened. Had... had he gotten it—

"True, but I asked _why._ Why dragons and not some other creature? Why not scrawl 'buggered if I know'? Why not leave the map blank so that it can be filled in later? _Why dragons?_ "

Their wagon was closing in on the gates of the town. He was being given a second chance, but he didn't have time. He mentally flailed for a response as the town gates loomed closer and closer.

Why dragons? Why not unicorns or clouds or otters or boulders or... or jagged rocks?

He smiled hugely.

"So no other map-maker will dare go and check!"

* * *

Holo's hand slapped her forehead as her laughter returned, ringing out over the snow-covered landscape. "You... so that... to hide their own lack of knowledge!" She succumbed to another round of laughter, doubling over. "I would never have thought of that! Ridiculous, but so utterly _human_ a notion!"

Lawrence had to smile. "Personally, I thought it a rather clever idea. No one likes to be proven wrong, and even knights would fear to face a mighty dragon, let alone a poor cartographer."

Holo had managed to calm herself such that she was merely _giggling_ at him. "Aye, but that reasoning would only hold for those that believe dragons are real!"

He sighed. "Yes. That _did_ rather spoil the idea, I admit."

"Your master," Holo began, finally bringing herself under control. "You got his hand again."

Lawrence smiled, turned to look her in the eye and carefully replied, "He gave me the coins."

Holo's eyes went wide, presumably thinking she had mis-judged his master. Such a _shame_ it wouldn't last.

Lawrence's smile faded, and he turned back to stare bitterly at the road ahead. " _Then_ he hit me."

Holo's laughter returned, followed by her clutching at his arm.

The wagon rolled on and Lawrence sighed.

After a time, Holo finally stopped laughing.

For a moment, there was peace on the road.

"'Tis a curious thing."

"What is?"

"You humans and your need to know all things. You cannot abide gaps in your understanding; so much so that you fill them with all manner of fancy."

Lawrence pondered this. "I suppose you're right. I know _I_ hate not knowing things. The price of goods in other towns, who needs what and where... what's beyond the next rise..."

"How a story ends."

Those four words felt like a wet blanket falling over their warm banter. Beside him, Holo seemed to grow tenser. What he said next would be important.

"Yes. And even then, we _always_ want to know what happens next. We'll even make it up if we have to. The more we love a story, the more we want every last scrap of detail, no matter how small."

"A foolish thing. There are many questions best left unanswered," spoke the Wisewolf.

He paused to consider his response. "Perhaps," he replied carefully, "but if we did not seek answers, I don't think we'd be human any more. Wolves fear fire, don't they?"

"Aye."

"That is why they must eat their food raw. But humans? Humans are too foolish to know when to quit. I imagine my ancestors burning themselves over and over again until they finally mastered fire." He smiled. "If not for that, spit-roast suckling pig would have never been invented.

" _Or_ apple pie, for that matter."

Holo considered this for a long moment. "As I said, even you. There may be some truth in that. Something so tasty; 'twould have been a grave loss, indeed." He felt her relax against him.

A pair of clouds slowly made their way across the sky.

"Your answer: was it correct, or was your master merely rewarding you for your efforts?"

Lawrence smiled a little. "Oh, it was wrong, but I think he felt my answer was more interesting than the truth."

"Oh?"

Lawrence turned to her. "They draw dragons because they've _always_ drawn dragons." Holo's smile faded. "No one seems to know _why dragons_ , but dragons they draw. It's just tradition. Or fashion, perhaps." He sighed. "I think the slap was for over-thinking the question as much as being wrong."

Holo gave a chuckle and sat back.

They passed a tree in silence.

"I enjoyed that tale." Her voice was soft and sounded unusually genuine.

"No doubt because I made a fool of myself and got hit several times."

"Aye; such tales are entertaining, indeed." Holo tightened her hold on his arm, snuggling against him. "I should like to hear more."

Lawrence felt rather put-upon. Why should he sit here and tell her stories that left him humiliated? Could he not at least expect a few of her own?

And she had to laugh so damned _hard_ at him, but would be furious if he laughed at her misfortunes... a memory of the face she wore as she fretted about what lay ahead of them at the end of the road came to mind.

His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her snoring. Looking down confirmed that she had fallen asleep leaning against him, her arm now slack at her side. Her face seemed relaxed.

He smiled. Looked at that way, it wasn't such a high price after all. Perhaps he _could_ find some more stories that would make her laugh. If he did, she might even share some of hers with him.

The more you love something, the more you want to know.

It didn't occur until much, much later, that perhaps that was what she had been thinking, too.


End file.
